


Cycle Heats Up, Get Burned

by Chaoswolf12



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mechpreg, Other, Sparklings, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Spark Bonds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:32:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 159,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4813358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaoswolf12/pseuds/Chaoswolf12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl starts a heat cycle, and makes plans to take care of it. But when things start to spiral out of his control, they really do, and he ends up with a situation he'd never have been able to predict.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting Warm

**Author's Note:**

> This being my first work in fanfiction of any kind, I would appreciate any comments. Hopefully I gain more confidence, and smooth out the awkwardness in my writing as I continue.
> 
> Additional warnings and tags will be added as needed. Let me know if I miss any.

Units of time:  
Klik- ~1second  
Breem- 8.3 Minutes  
Groon- 10 breems, ~1.5 hr  
Joor- 6 hrs = 4 groons  
Orn- 1 Cybertronian day = 52 joor =13 days  
Decacycle- 10 days (used for both Cybertronian and human time units)  
Vorn- 83 years  
Oft times used by Cybertronians to refer to human planetary time-  
-Solar cycle- 1 day  
-Orbital cycle- 1 month  
-stellar cycle- 1 year  
::text:: comm speak  
~text~ bond speak

 

Prowl sat at his desk in his office, datapad in hand, trying to read a report about the latest skirmish. Rubbing a hand over his over-warm faceplate, he sighed, glad that he only had a few breem left in this shift. Unfortunately he had far too much to do to make things ready before...

A chime at the door and Prowl's quiet “Enter” preceded a cheerful Jazz. Jazz plopped himself in one of the guest chairs in front of Prowl's desk, and propped his peds up on the other, EM field teeking as bright as his smile. “S'up Prowler?” he chirped.

Sitting up straighter, his own field tucked in a little tighter than usual, Prowl let another sigh of air out of his vents and looked at the cheerfully relaxed mech. “I am attempting to get these battle analysis done. An attempt that would be expedited if more mechs would turn their reports in on time.” Giving Jazz a mildly disapproving look, he added “I am waiting on your reports still.” 

Jazz flashed him an unrepentant grin, visor glowing bright blue. “Sure thing ma mech, s'why I dropped in. 'Course I had to stop by the medbay and the rec room to check up on 'bots,” he said, as he flipped a datapad out of subspace and tossed it onto the desk. This of course, earned him another mild glare, a disapproving click, and an irritated doorwing twitch from Prowl. “All the injured are already out of medbay, and the weekend party is already being planned.” Jazz grinned as this made Prowl growl quietly. His grin faded a little when Prowl shuttered his optics and rubbed at his temple with one hand. “Hey, Prowler, you okay mech?” He asked, his field reaching out with concern.

Prowl blinked and focused on Jazz, “I am fine.” A small, wry smile briefly curled his lips, and brushed his own field back lightly in reassurance, before pulling it in tight again. “Despite common belief, I do get tired and I do sometimes wish to do something other than work.”

“Well, how 'bout we get out of here and grab some energon then?” 

“As agreeable as that sounds, I have a couple things to finish up here, and then I have a meeting I must attend. Thank you, though,” Prowl replied dismissively, making a show of sorting through his datapads. As lovely as having a cube with Jazz sounded, he didn't have time to dodge all of his perpetually nosy friend's questions.

As such, he missed the flash of disappointment on Jazz's face. Covering it up with his usual grin, Jazz stood up, stretched, and was sauntering towards the door when he stopped. Turning back to Prowl, he tilted head and asked, “Wait, what meeting? We haven't any meetin's planned until you are done pilin' all that data together.”

Prowl glanced at him, pale blue optics flashing, doorwings making an aborted aggravated upwards twitch, and said, “It is a personal matter, and as such doesn't involve everyone.”

Jazz crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. One brow ridge raised under his visor, and a teasing grin formed. “Pers'nal, huh? Anythin' I can help ya with, Prowler?” 

Frowning at the saboteur's teasing tone, and definitely not wanting to have Jazz poking into his business right now, seriously or not, Prowl replied in a carefully neutral tone, “It is nothing major, and nothing that requires your help. I merely need to speak to Ratchet about a minor issue.”

“Ah. Sure, ok.” Jazz shrugged and turned to leave, casting a casual wave and a “See ya, Prowler” over his shoulder as he exited the office.

Prowl slumped a little in his chair, relieved to be alone again. Releasing his cooling fans and EM field from the careful hold he'd had on them, he pulled in several ventfulls of cool air. Fanning his door panels gently to help circulate air over them, Prowl growled in irritation. Heat and mild arousal had been plaguing him for the last three days, and despite his hopes to the contrary, Prowl was now sure that he was entering a heat cycle. He spent a few more moments glaring at nothing, before heaving a resigned sigh. Gathering up what datapads he wanted to work on later in his quarters, Prowl placed them in his subspace before shuting down his workstation. Standing in front of his door, Prowl let his fans run for a few more moments, venting deep, before he stepped out and locked his office, headed to see Ratchet.

-=-=-=-

Ratchet was alone in the medbay, scrubbing down the last of the tools he'd used that day fixing up the various injuries from the previous day's skirmish, when Prowl arrived. Ratchet turned to Prowl, and jerked his helm in the direction of his office. “Go on in, and take a seat, I've just got to dry these and put them away,” he said, raising the tool in his hands slightly in emphasis. Prowl nodded and headed to the back of the medbay, where the office door stood open.

Prowl had only been sitting a few minutes when Ratchet came in, wiping his red hands dry with a cloth. “So,” Ratchet said, sitting down, tossing the cloth into a hamper by the wall. “What did you need to see me about, Prowl? I can only hope you're here to tell me that you've decided to do me a favor and work a decent schedule like a regular mech and fuel properly, and let me finally do that joint maintenance you need?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, brow ridge raised.

Prowl merely raised his brow in reply, before clearing his vocalizer with a soft click. “Sorry to disappoint you, Ratchet, but I am here about a different matter.” Giving the white and red medic a glance before dropping his gaze to his own white hands, doorwings hiked up high and uncomfortable behind him, Prowl asked, “What do you know about Praxian mating cycles?”

Ratchet leaned forward, bracing his arms on his desk, sharp cerulean optics locked on Prowl, field flaring in surprise and dawning suspicion. “I know enough. I know all Praxians go through a heat, much like their flight-framed cousins. I know it lasts about 4 orns, spiking around the end of the third orn, then tapering back off the last orn. And I know that unless precautions are made, anymech who gets near that mech in heat is going to try and mate with them, under the influence of their electromagnetic field and heat scent.”

Prowl nodded, then said, “Close. It is really only in the six to twelve joors during the intense peak on the third orn that the EM and scent severely influence other mechs. For the rest of the time, it is more subtle. Merely being uncomfortable for the mech in heat, and others might be a little more solicitous- offering energon, or comfort, or preening.” Here he paused a moment, then with a little staticy cough, continued in a forced nonchalant tone, “A mech in heat will be easily aroused, and more susceptible to advances made by others, as the longer less intense time before the peak is supposedly to find a suitable mate. If the mech in heat suppresses their, er, need, then at most other mechs might flirt and show off more, as I said. Even if the mech were to blatantly blare their status, a fight or two might break out at worst, and then the mech would choose their preferred mate and retreat somewhere private and secure with them.”

“That's all good to know,” Ratchet said, optics narrowed on the black and white mech, and the anxiously twitching sensor wings. “Fascinating even. Why'd you bring it up?”

Icy blue optics briefly shot a glare at the medic, before flicking away. Tone resigned and thoroughly embarrassed, Prowl said, “Because, as I am sure you have already worked out, I am entering a heat cycle now.”

Sitting up straighter and frowning at Prowl, Ratchet asked, “Why is this the first time I've become aware of it, especially if all Praxians have them, and why haven't you had one before this?”

Shifting in his seat, Prowl rumbled his engine before answering. “Partly, it is because mating cycles naturally have a long fallow period of several hundred, to thousands of vorn. Partly it is the war, which made fuel and energy costly and the stress reduced the likelihood of the coding activating. And partly, it is because after Praxus fell, raising Bluestreak from a mechling helped to quell the drive.”

“I see,” Ratchet murmured, one hand rising to rub contemplatively at his lower lip. “But li'l Blue's all grown up now, and the war has simmered down enough, and Earth provides energy aplenty to make energon enough, that now the coding is flaring back up, is that it?” 

“ I believe so, yes,” Prowl said. He shifted forward slightly, intense optics sharp, and voice a little tight as he continued, “This is why I need to schedule a medical leave. The cycle started about three days ago, and I have a little over three weeks to get things done before the third orn starts. I will need to take off about five days, just in case. My cycles are very predictable and the peak should start the very end of the third orn, and last about eight joors. Putting that into earth time table, that means I need at least 48 hours, but five days would be preferable, to allow for travel, and for any unforeseen events.”

“Medical leave? Sure, but why travel time? Wouldn't you just hole up in your quarters?” Ratchet asked, confused.

“No,” Prowl shook his head. “The scent is too strong and the EM field flares drastically. I would have mechs clogging the hall and trying to break down my door.”

“That bad, eh?” Ratchet grimaced. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his red helm, before scratching a moment at his white chevron. “Well, I will put in the request. You know what days you will need? And do you have a safe place yet?”

Prowl nodded, a flicker of deep relief teekable before he reined in field again. “Yes, I will need med leave starting a month from now. At least I will have all of August to plan for this. I will have to leave by the last day of August, but should be back before September's Labor Day holiday. As for a safe place, I have one in mind, though I need to do a few last preparations to it to make it truly protected.”

“Alright.” Ratchet turned to the cabinet behind him and dug around until he found the type of datapad he needed. As he passed it over to Prowl to fill out, a thought struck him. “You told me why you haven't had a heat in a while, but what about Blue and Smokescreen?”

“Bluestreak is still young, and won't be affected for several more vorn, probably. Of Smokescreen, I am unsure. He is old enough, I know, older than I am, but I suspect he has pure sire coding.” 

Ratchet frowned. “Okay, you are going to have to explain your point here.”

“The point is making a newspark- that's what all mating protocols are for,” Prowl said with a little fleeting smirk. He leaned back as Ratchet swiped at him half-sparkedly, doorwings flaring in amusement. “But simply put, pure sire coding means that a mech will only ever be a sire, never a carrier. Sometimes it is a lack of carrier coding, sometimes it includes a lack of gestation chamber as well.” Prowl gave Ratchet a curious look. “I am surprised that this is unknown to you. You are a very accomplished and knowledgeable medic.”

Ratchet humphed, crossing his arms. “I lived and worked almost exclusively in Iacon and the nearest areas. Didn't come across many Praxians then. And what ones did come to Iacon generally only went to Praxian medics. You lot always were insular. And then, well... after the war, I never had much a chance to learn all the particulars.” Unsaid, though both felt the sorrowful truth, was that after Praxus fell, there were few enough survivors it was too late and very little point. Ratchet reset his vocalizer, and shifted a little in his chair. “Anyway, non-Praxian grounders all have the same coding, and there is generally very little difference. How will this sire coding affect him if he has it?”

“If he has it, he will show some irritability, maybe some more aggression. It was sometimes called a 'sympathetic heat', because the mech displays a lot of the same symptoms of a mech in a mating cycle, but they don't go through it themselves. However, if I were to stay near enough for a sire to teek or scent me during the peak, he could, and most likely would, become extremely violent. Mostly towards anybot that stands between him and mating, but sometimes if stressed or glitched, towards the mech in heat. It is fairly rare coding though- only about ten percent. It is even rarer in fliers.” Prowl shrugged his doorwings, rubbing his temple again. The processor ache was trying to creep back.

Ratchet noticed of course, and rumbled his engine to get Prowl's attention. “I take it some of the discomfort comes in the form of processor aches? Anything else I should know about, so I can give it to you before you end up in my medbay?” His field nudged Prowl with equal parts amusement and concern.

“Ah. Yes. Well, processor aches, overheating, and slightly higher fuel consumption are the most noticeable effects. Sometimes a craving for a mineral or supplement. But if you wish to help right now, some mild pain chips and some coolant would be acceptable,” Prowl gave a quiet, slightly embarrassed rev of his engine. “The coolant especially as the, ah, heat is aptly named, and I prefer not to have to fight my cooling fans all day.”

Chuckling, Ratchet stood and waved Prowl out into the medbay proper, then headed over to one of the liquid storage cabinets. Grabbing a couple jugs of coolant, and a few medicinal grade energon cubes, he set them on the counter for Prowl. “Drink the coolant as needed, and for frag's sake, let me know if you need more. Drink the med grade if you feel any cravings. It should have all the extras your frame might want. Oh!” He walked over to a different cabinet, and opened a drawer. Pulling out a half dozen pain blockers, he handed those to Prowl as well. “Use those if you get a processor ache that quiet and/or recharge doesn't fix. If you need more-,” he poked a finger at Prowl with a half serious growl, “-you had better comm me or make another appointment.”

Stashing the supplies in his subspace, Prowl nodded. “Indeed, I shall. Thank you Ratchet.” Ratchet waved him out with a harumphed 'just doing my job', and Prowl headed to his quarters planning to get some recharge.


	2. Starting to Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still hope to get a chapter out about every week or so, but it's been a little slower going than I thought, so don't be surprised if there is a bit more time between. Life tends to get in the way when it comes to writing time.

-=-=-=-

 

It had been nearly three weeks, and Prowl only had a few more days to square things away before his leave. The mating cycle had slowly ramped up so that he was broadcasting enough that hiding in his quarters- when not barricaded in his office- was prudent. This last week had been particularly trying. Mechs had been following and hounding him constantly. It was getting to where he had to keep one optic on Teletraan's locator pings at all times to make sure he didn't run into a member of his newly acquired fan club. These last two days had been bad enough Prowl contemplated coordinating with Red Alert to keep clear of everyone. If only they would all stop staring at him and trying to touch him.

 

Trying to keep his field close and unreadable when it wanted to flare and attract attention was exhausting. It became harder and harder, much more than he remembered from past mating cycles. This last week was particularly difficult. Not only was he battling to control his field, he was also fighting his cooling fans. It took constant overrides to keep them from spinning and advertizing his arousal, and Prowl was guzzling coolant like an overclocked speedster. Whenever his concentration slipped both would flare and activate respectively, leaving Prowl embarrassed and struggling to suppress them once again. One of the reasons he began hiding in his rooms or in his office as to prevent further embarrassment. The other was that his heat was effecting mecha much more than it should.

 

It surprised Prowl a little to find which mechs seemed to react the most. Some he had guessed might, like Ironhide. Ironhide was more protective than usual, overly concerned for Prowl's welfare. He'd taken to following Prowl around like he was Prowl's bodyguard, not Prime's. And then there was Hound, who had been offering little organic plantings and knicknacks every time he turned around. He had also tried more than once to get Prowl to visit some interesting place or other. Powerglide had become even more likely to try and show off his flying and fighting prowess. Which resulted in a few brawls with the minibots and brig time for the red flier. But he hadn't thought Grapple would, who spent an entire joor trying to impress him with elaborate, and- he had to admit- beautiful upgrades for his office and quarters. It took nearly as long for Prowl to convince the architect that such renovations were unfair and unnecessary. He certainly hadn't expected Sunstreaker and Sideswipe to be solicitous, offering energon and polishing. Sideswipe even managed to behave himself, and there hadn't been any pranks or mischief happening in the last two weeks.

 

And, somewhat to his shame, a moment of weakness had allowed him to indulge a little and accept the full frame wash and polish Sunstreaker offered. The twins had been as surprised as Prowl when he accepted. It was afterward, when Prowl had been a relaxed, warm, melted black and white puddle of nearly purring bliss, when the overly-interested fields mingling with his own and the polishing became closer to caressing, that Prowl balked. The realization of what he was doing washed over him like a bucket of ice water. He panicked. Making hasty excuses he'd slipped away from the hands still brushing lightly over his armor, retreating as quickly as he could to his rooms. Prowl castigated himself for his loss of self control for nearly a whole solar cycle. Not only had he surely left the twins confused and possibly lead them on, but now it was much harder to ignore the itch under his plating and the heat of arousal building in his systems. Thank Primus that had happened just yesterday, and now he only had to get through two more days before he left.

 

What had been even more interesting than which mechs were reacting, was which mechs took to actively avoiding Prowl. Skyfire had holed himself up in the science lab. Prowl wondered if the shuttle feared the activation of his own mating cycle- it had been known to happen. Cliffjumper had taken to avoiding just about everyone, especially Powerglide, and started going on long patrols. Mirage was seen even less than usual. Inferno had nearly locked himself in the security room with Red Alert. But the first to start was Smokescreen.

 

There had been a meeting for the tactical team, Smokescreen, Trailbreaker, Skydive, and himself, only five days after seeing Ratchet. Prowl had already been seated at the conference table, waiting for the others to arrive. Smokescreen was the first to walk in. A moment after he stepped inside, the blue mech's doorwings had flared high and aggressive, and his optics flared bright, zeroing in on Prowl. A growl filled the air, and a field full of lust/dominance/display pushed at Prowl, before Smokescreen's processors caught up with him. With a flash of shock, he stepped back and visibly gained control of himself. Prowl didn't move, except to lower his own doorwings into a more submissive posture, armor clamped tight, to appease the suddenly aggressive fellow Praxian. Although this confirmed his suspicions about Smokescreen's coding, he was just as shocked and surprised. Because only eight days- barely over half an orn- into his cycle, Prowl had no idea that he'd be broadcasting enough to cause such a reaction! Concerned, Prowl had just opened his mouth to say something when the other two walked in. While Trailbreaker and Skydive shuffled to the table and arranged their datapads, Smokescreen sat at the far end of the table, as far from Prowl as possible, field and frame tight and uncomfortable. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to draw attention to himself or Smokescreen, Prowl had carried on the meeting as usual. Smokescreen had bolted out the door the second the briefing had been over, and he and Prowl had engaged in a dance of mutual avoidance since. Thankfully, Optimus helped there, encouraging and allowing Prowl to assign Smokescreen shifts and duties as far from his own as possible.

 

Not all the mechs were influenced by Prowl's heat. In fact, almost half the crew were practically immune. The Aerialbots, the Protectobots, and the Dinobots were all too young yet. As was Bluestreak. Bumblebee was old enough, but appeared to be unaffected, acting same as usual. Several of the other minibots didn't seem to notice. Although, Prowl wondered if that was because many in the group were bonded already, or if minibots were just resistant. They were stubborn, hard-helmed little mechs, and Prowl wouldn't be surprised if that showed all the way to core coding.

 

The one mech who confused Prowl with his reaction was Jazz. Jazz acted the same as ever, cheerful, unpredictable, and moving to his own beat. But he was _always there_. Prowl was unsure if Jazz had always been following on the periphery of his awareness, or if it was a new development. Or maybe Prowl was just aware of it now; how Jazz kept a subtle eye on him, brought him energon during mid-shift breaks and sat and chatted with him, his field lightly brushing Prowl's gauging his mood. Perhaps Jazz touched him more, casual brushes, an arm over his shoulder, a hand on his arm. Perhaps the heat explained why Prowl didn't mind these touches, and sometimes even returned them. And maybe it was just the heat that made Jazz's presence a sought after comfort when Prowl was tired or lonely or upset. When he went over his memory files though, Prowl realized that had been his habit for almost the last few hundred vorn. And Jazz did the same, coming to Prowl when he needed comfort. The thought made his spark flutter and his processor race. Was Jazz showing an increased interest in Prowl? Did Prowl feel anything more than friendship towards Jazz? His spark seemed to think so, and his processor was inclined to agree, but... Their relationship had been well established for millennia now, and Prowl was afraid to upset the balance. Besides, until he could be sure that it wasn't just interference from this mating cycle hazing things with it's arousal soaked, pheromone coated view, he was not going to change anything. Mating cycles influenced mecha and left them much more open to the suggestion of a relationship- of a mate- then they might otherwise be. It was the nature of the code after all. When he was back from his leave, and things had settled back into their normal routine, and he'd had the chance to think it over and plan... maybe.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Ratchet had insisted on monitoring Prowl's cycle. All of Prowl's efforts to sidestep the medic had failed. He finally gave up and let the grumpy white medic have his way. Even offered up what personal medical files- heavily encrypted of course- he had stored in his battle computer (a good precaution, as his medical history otherwise had been lost with Praxus.) to present a baseline when Ratchet had badgered him for more information. He was later grateful for this, even though he would never admit it, because during those checkups Ratchet found that Prowl was emitting higher levels of pheromonal heat scent and EM signals than his personal records showed as normal.

 

“I don't understand. It has always been predictable and _normal_ before. Why would it have changed?” Prowl asked, a distressed whine from his engine punctuating his question.

 

“I don't know, Prowl. Perhaps it is because it is the first one you've had in such a long time,” he offered, patting Prowl on the knee, field supportive and comforting, while he plugged a medical scanner into Prowl's wrist port. “At least now we know why so many 'bots have been behaving the way they have. And it is definitely good to know that your med leave is already approved and taken care of. If you are effecting 'bots this bad, this soon, it would be down right dangerous for you to stay here. Especially since we now know for sure Smokey's pure sire. Unfortunately all I've been able to do about him is recommend Prime keep him and you as far from each other as possible.” The scanner beeped, done with its testing.

 

Ratchet read the findings, and turned sharp optics to Prowl. “And just how long has your battle computer been compromised?” he asked, shoulder plates flaring in anger, a growl under his words.

 

Prowl's head jerked up, doorwings swept forward in surprise. “It isn't compromised. What makes you say that?”

 

“The readings right here.” Ratchet's red finger tapped the scanner's screen. “It clearly shows that your battle computer is running at only about twenty-five percent output and efficiency. And your emotional circuits are lit up like a supernova-”

 

“Precisely,” Prowl cut in. “My battle computer is programmed to power down most of its functions during my heats, unless needed for a battle or tactical planning, _because_ my emotional circuits are highly active. You know how hard it is to balance the two already. If my battle computer were running at a hundred percent, I would glitch into stasis. As there is no healthy way to effect the output of emotion circuits, my doctor before the war programmed this work-around.”

 

Ratchet tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I see. Makes sense, and it certainly explains why our normally stoic SIC has not been wearing his usual emotionless mask. It also explains why everymech's been buzzing about you getting a polishing from the twins, and how you've been openly cuddling Bluestreak in the rec room on movie nights. Ha, you've had mechs confused and pondering for the last two orns. Pits, there were even a few convinced you'd either come down with a fatal illness, or we were all about to die.” Ratchet shared a wry smile with Prowl. “I take it your unusual behavior is because of the heat and the unfamiliar strength of your emotions overriding what logic your battle computer is spitting at you?”

 

“Indeed. At least after the peak things should return to normal fairly quickly, and be easier on all of us. Speaking of which-” Prowl laid his own hand on Ratchet's to gain his full attention, sensor wings fluttering and twitching with stress, “-I think it would be best for me to leave a few days early. Tomorrow. Today is Friday, and tomorrow is the beginning of the weekend, and I have all my reports and shifts covered. My leave starts on Monday anyway. I have the retreat all set up. Red Alert, Optimus, and you have the coordinates. All I need is the last few supplies- the coolant and the energon you were going to give me, and then I can go. I don't like how unpredictable this heat is being, and I don't want to have a sparkling in the middle of a war” Flickers of fear, need, impatience, all of it floating in a background hum of arousal churned through his field, and it slipped loose enough for Ratchet to feel.

 

The medic gasped, hand tightening on Prowl's as his own field gave a flare of lust/want/defend before he clamped it down. Pulling his hand away he blew a sigh through his vents, which also helped to clear some of the pheromone laden atmosphere from his systems, helping him resettle. Putting aside the arguments he wanted to make, Ratchet nodded. “Alright Prowl. Let me get what you need.”

 

While Ratchet put together a few boxes, Prowl sat on the med berth cycling his vents and trying to tuck his field in as neatly as it had been before its escape. Never before had control seemed so hard to gain. Powering down his optics and stilling his doorwings, he ran a few scenarios through his battle computer to help him focus. When his processor had settled and his field quieted enough to rein it in, he sat up straight and looked to Ratchet.

 

“Alright, this box has coolant in it. This one is energon, and a few med grade, just in case. I also grabbed a medkit, because better safe than sorry, and loaded a few pain suppressant chips in it, should you get any more helm-aches. Also stuffed a few recharge inducer chips in there, should it get bad enough you can't recharge. Won't knock you out, just make it easier to initiate recharge,” Ratchet explained as he pointed to each box.

Putting the boxes in his subspace pockets, he thanked Ratchet, once again outwardly stoic, and headed out the door. There were a few last things he needed to do, and he needed to tell Prime that he was leaving in the morning. While he was on the way, he might as well leave a message for Bluestreak too, letting his adopted creation know he would be leaving early, and that he would miss their usual refuel and chat before morning shift.

 

Lost in planning ahead, Prowl nearly jumped out of his plating when a friendly arm draped itself over his shoulder. “Whoa, there Prowler!” Jazz laughed, walking beside Prowl on his right. “Didn't meanta startle ya.” Pulling his arm away, he gave Prowl's right doorwing a playful tweak. His visor brightened in surprise when instead of the usual door flick and irritated glare, he got a gasp and a quiet engine rev. “Are you okay Prowl?” he asked, black hand reaching out to rest on the black armor of Prowl's fore-arm.

 

Vents hiccuping a little as he hastily pulled in air in an attempt to keep his misbehaving cooling fans from activating, Prowl desperately hoped that the arousal that shot through his frame was not too obvious. Clearing his vocalizer he said, “Of course I am fine.” He winced internally when there was still a hint of static in his voice and reset his vocalizer again. “You surprised me is all. I was just making my way to see Optimus and was thinking about that.”

 

“Uh huh. If you say so ma mech,” Jazz said, skepticism practically dripped from his voice, before he shrugged and let it go for the moment. Experience told him that when Prowl got evasive like this it was typically a personal issue. He'd suss it out later. Always did, usually about the time Prowl was ready to ask for help. “Anyway, I've something I needta see the Boss Bot 'bout maself, so I'll walk wit'ya.” As they walked, his hand moved to cup Prowl's elbow joint, fingers absently playing over the smooth metal.

 

Suppressing a shiver, Prowl glanced at Jazz from the corner of his optics, wondering if he realized he was... caressing Prowl's elbow. Despite trying so hard to keep his field in check, there was nothing he could do about the subtle scent rising from his plating, and how it effected mecha. By the time they made it to Optimus' office door, Jazz was stroking along all of Prowl's arm, and had shifted close enough he was practically hugging it. Several times, Prowl had opened his mouth to say something, but Jazz had been humming to music playing on his internal comm and seemed unaware of his actions. Prowl certainly wasn't going to bring attention to it if he didn't have to. Lifting his left hand to knock, since his right was captured, he also pinged to let Optimus know who was at the door.

 

“Come in,” Optimus called, unsurprised to see Prowl, since Ratchet had already sent him a private comm to update him. What did surprise him was seeing a second black and white mech. Jazz was practically glued to his Second in Command's arm, and looked quite happy to be there, humming sub-vocally. Raising an optic ridge at Prowl, he gestured them in to sit. Prowl flicked his optics at Jazz, and steered them to the guest chairs, maneuvering Jazz into one, and scooting his own farther away when it looked like the saboteur would try to regain possession of his arm. Jazz growled lowly, and made a move to grab Prowl, visor locked on him, when Optimus sharply called “ _Jazz_!”

 

Jerking upright and resetting his visor, Jazz looked at Optimus, then to Prowl, and deliberately crossed his arms. “Okay, what the slag's goin' on? I just about jumped Prowl a moment ago, and I'm still feelin' more than a little urge to nab 'im and secure us someplace private. And where no other mech's c'n find us.” The last was said with quiet engine growl and a pointed look at Optimus.

 

Clicking his vocalizer to gain the other two's attention, Prowl spoke up, “As you can see, and as I am sure Ratchet has told you, the situation has changed some.” Avoiding Jazz's suspicious scrutiny, unable to meet Optimus' gaze, Prowl's optics roamed the room before settling on his own hands in his lap. “I am here to let you know that I am going to have to start my leave early, and will be headed out before first shift begins tomorrow.”

 

“I see,” Optimus said. Folding his hand in front of him and looking at Prowl with concerned optics above his battle mask, he asked, “I know you were intending to use these next two solar cycles to finalize the shift schedules and to get everything you needed. I assume Ratchet gave you everything you need, and then some,” he said with a quiet chuckle, while Prowl nodded. “As for the scheduling, I will handle it. Everything else is taken care of, so you are free to leave as soon as you want.”

 

“Wait a sec'! Wha's goin' on here! I think as Third in Command, I oughta be let in the loop here. I knew Prowler was actually takin' some time off for once, but what the Pit kinda 'situation' are you talkin' 'bout here?” Jazz snarled, impatience and anger rising. He was still unsettled by the lust and battle readiness he felt. Possessiveness rose in him every time he looked at Prowl, and he had to hold back an angry engine rev whenever Optimus looked Prowl's way. Prowl was avoiding meeting their optics and looking almost ashamed, and it made Jazz's spark twinge with worry.

 

::You can tell him Optimus. He has a valid point, as TIC Jazz probably should have been made aware of my... problem before now.:: Prowl told Optimus over his private comm line.

 

::Very well, my friend. I know how you like your privacy, and I agreed to letting it be need-to-know. Don't strip your gears about this, it's not your fault.:: Optimus replied, while responding to Jazz aloud saying, “It is a personal issue for Prowl, and was treated as such with full patient confidentiality. But it recently became a bit more serious.” Optimus took a deep in-vent, and looked at Jazz, gaining his full attention. Jazz had been intently staring at Prowl, and Optimus wanted to take some of that attention off, giving Prowl a little time to settle himself. “Prowl entered a Praxian mating cycle three orns ago, and it has been unusually strong.” Here Optimus had to rev his engine to get Jazz to look at him again, as Jazz had whipped his head around to look at Prowl. “His leave was set to cover the time in the cycle that makes him and other mecha unable to control themselves. Because of the unexpected increase in the intensity, he has to leave early. Now,” Optimus sat back, looking at Prowl again, “Everything is set, and I will see you when you feel ready to return. Don't worry if it takes longer than your specified leave.” Optimus held up a hand to forestall the sputtered protests rising from Prowl. “No, Prowl. I need my SIC and friend to take care of himself more than I need you to be back the day you originally thought. I can handle assigning a few extra shift schedules and a bit more paperwork if I have to,” He said with a smile turning up the corners of his optics.

 

“Where are ya goin' to then, Prowl?” Jazz asked, helm buzzing with the new information and already making connections to some of the odd happenings between 'bots lately.

 

“I found a cave inside Autobot territory that I have modified and made secure for my use,” Prowl replied, voice quiet. He was still mortified that even with all his precautions this was edging out of his control. “It is far enough from the patrol route that no-mech should come within range to be affected, but still close enough that a comm or emergency beacon will be picked up. Supplies enough for over a week are already there, and Ratchet gave me enough more to last almost another week. It isn't the filtered and air-tight, automated-defense-fortified heat centers of Praxus and Vos, but I installed a blast rated door, and Red Alert helped set up additional security measures. It even has a thermal spring deep enough to soak in in an adjoining chamber, and I brought enough solvent and cloths to keep clean.”

 

“Sounds lovely. When're we headed out?” Jazz asked, deliberately nonchalant, arms up and fingers casually laced behind his helm.

 

Prowl sputtered a bit, door panels waving high in agitation. “There is no 'we'. The point of this is to keep me _away_ from everyone, because the last thing I need is to end up with a sparkling in the middle of a war, with no mate, and not even on the right planet!”

 

“I ain't lettin' you go out there without an escort and a perimeter sweep o' your little retreat, at the very least.” Jazz said, swiping an arm through the air, cutting through Prowl's protests. “Now that I know what ta look out for, I c'n control maself. I've the trainin' to ignore it. An' you aren't in a very observant helm space righ' now, and havin' somebot else there to watch out fer ya on the way there is jus' smart.”

 

Prowl knew just by looking at the stubborn set of his mouth, and the arms now crossed over his chassis that Jazz was absolutely not going to let this go. If he tried to leave without the horned- and- visored menace, he would just end up with a tail following him. An annoying black and white tail with a lovely blue racing stripe and red piping and gorgeous flowing lines, chasing him, catching him, proving they were a strong mate... Shaking his head sharply, Prowl stood abruptly and paced away from the two mechs near him. He stood staring at the shelf on the wall across from Optimus' desk without really seeing the mementos on it. Rubbing at his red chevron brought no relief from the swirling thoughts nor reduced the increased heat simmering under his plating. Sighing air out of his vents, Prowl turned around, only to see both mechs watching him with overly bright optics.

 

Prowl licked his lips nervously, an action which earned a short rev from Jazz and a soft growl from Optimus. Watching the two of them, wide-opticed, Prowl began to edge his way towards the door. “I- I need to go. I need – I need to get a couple things. From my quarters,” he stammered, hand reaching for the door control.

 

Optimus blinked, and seemed to shake himself back into control. Glancing between Prowl and Jazz, who still had his visor locked on Prowl and was slowly leaning towards him, tense and looking ready to pounce. The Prime nodded, keeping his optics on Jazz, and said slowly, “Yes. Perhaps it would even be best if you were to start your leave as soon as you retrieve what you need. Night shift just began and there should be very few mecha about. And I fear waiting until morning shift might be too long.” Slowly standing, watching Jazz carefully, Optimus walked around his desk until he was standing next to Jazz. Putting a hand on Jazz's shoulder made the mech startle.

 

Jazz jerked, then froze. Resetting his visor again, he looked at Optimus holding his shoulder, then Prowl standing warily by the door. Giving an embarrassed cough, he said sheepishly, “Uh, I'm guessin' I didn't keep up wit' ma boastin'. Guess this ain't somethin' Ops trainin' can't override, huh?”

 

Prowl shook his head, still hovering near the door. “Deep coded. Species imperative, supercedes pretty much all control during the peak. I, I really must go now. You know the coordinates, Optimus. I don't think an escort would be, ah, prudent now.”

 

“Agreed,” Optimus said, still holding Jazz. He had to tighten his grip as the saboteur strained forward subtly, trying to follow Prowl whenhe left the room. The door shut, and the tense mech under his hand slowly relaxed, as Prowl's EM field moved out of range, and the heat scent dissipated. When Optimus released his shoulder, Jazz slumped in his chair and covered his faceplate with his hands.

 

::Red Alert, Prowl just left my office. Make sure no one bothers him. He's leaving for his secure location now, and I don't want him accosted in the halls of the Ark before he can get to his safe place.:: Optimus commed.

 

::Affirmative:: Red Alert replied. ::I'll watch over him. I'll get the guards at the entrance out of the way too. Have them check a sensor off to the east side::

 

::Thank you, Red.:: Optimus said, then looked down at Jazz as the mech chuckled ruefully, vents letting out a stuttered sigh. “Some friend I am, can't ev'n make sure he gets someplace safe wit'out getting' jumped, 'cause I'm jus' as likely to jump 'im maself.” He craned his neck, looking up at Optimus where he still stood beside him. “Has he left already?”

 

Optimus paused a moment to check with Teletraan and with Red Alert, and nodded. “Yes, he headed straight out, didn't even go to his quarters first. I hope he truly had everything he needed.”

 

“You an' me both, Optimus,” Jazz said quietly.

 

-=-=-=-


	3. Blazing Hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I begin to earn the rating I chose. Hope you like it ^_^

-=-=-=-

Prowl hurried through the Ark, unnerved by how strongly Jazz and Optimus had reacted. It wasn't supposed to be this strong yet! Pausing in the hall, he debated going back to his quarters to get the items he had wanted to bring, but noise in the halls down that way decided him. He was not going anywhere near anybot else. Turning towards the Ark's exit, Prowl walked as quickly as he could, checking with Teletraan for everyone's location. Luckily, no one was in his path, not even the guards at the entrance bay. A brief moment of wondering where the guards were was pushed aside by relief that he wouldn't have to evade them. Transforming, Prowl sped off the moment his tires touched the hard-packed dirt in front of the Ark, engine seeming loud in the early evening quiet. 

The journey wasn't a very long one, made quicker by the way drivers got out of the way when they saw his police car alt, as he headed northwest from the Ark, and up into the mountain's foothills near the edge of their patrolled territory. It was only a few hours away, and so still within safety, but isolated enough, and hard enough to get to deter any unwanted … company. Prowl followed the trail up the steep side of a hill, and stopped where it switch-backed right above a particularly sheer drop. Transforming to root mode, he jumped down onto a ledge under the road, and walked into the shadows there that hid the entrance to the cave, using his headlights to brighten the way. It was narrow, and Prowl had to be careful not to scrape his doorwings on the walls. A few paces down the passage was the door Prowl had installed. He pushed it open and walked into the roomy cavern beyond. Switching on the power pack he'd acquired and set right by the door, and then the few lights he'd hooked up to it, Prowl turned off his headlights to let his optics adjust to the new illumination level. Turning, he inspected everything he had brought. A pallet of berth pads and covers occupied the far right corner. Stacked boxes of energon and coolant were set within easy reach of the pallet. There was even a few datapads of light reading on the floor, sitting neatly against the wall between the berth and the boxes, with large rocks acting as bookends. On the left side, near the foot of the bedding, was another opening, this one leading to the hot spring. A cord snaked its way through the archway, and the glow from the lamp it powered could be seen.

Satisfied that everything was there, Prowl locked the door. It was a simple lock- a metal beam slotted into hooks on the door and wall- but effective. It would take a lot of force to break in, should anybot get that far. Slumping slightly in relief, Prowl relaxed for the first time since his cycle had started, letting both EM field and cooling fans free. Even his armor relaxed, lifting away from the tight defensive clasp he'd maintained since the heat began in an effort to subdue some of the heat scent, opening gaps wide and fluffing to let more air flow over his protoform. Going over to the boxes, he began to empty his subspace pockets. The boxes from Ratchet joined the ones already sitting there, and the medkit was placed along the wall nearby were it wouldn't get kicked. A few more datapads were added to the collection. 

Prowl frowned. He'd really hoped to be able to retrieve a few personal aids before coming here. He knew from past experience that when the peak really hit- and that would be very soon, sooner than he thought- he'd be desperate for the false spike that resided in the drawer of his berthside table. That was the one thing he hadn't yet brought here, as he had taken to using it nightly to assuage the non-stop arousal, and had planned to grab it before he left. Growling in irritation, Prowl lay down on the pallet. Given how Optimus and Jazz had acted before he left, trying to grab it would have been too risky. His plating rang as he shuddered, thinking about what might have happened if he had come across any mech less controlled on his way to his rooms. Better to just suffer through this relying on only his hands for relief, than to have got caught before his could escape.

Finally winding down, Prowl initiated recharge. It was well into the early hours of the next solar cycle and he was so tired from all the tension of the last few solar cycles, and then driving here hard and fast, and he should rest while he could...

-=-=-=-

Prowl woke suddenly almost two joors later, vents roaring, and processor muzzy. His confusion was quickly replaced by realization. His frame was blazing, cooling fans on full blast and vents wide open. Condensation covered his plating from the cool moist air of the cave. Arousal coursed through his lines, all of it seeming to pool behind his pelvic plating. Prowl moaned, twisting on the bedding, hands already reaching between his legs. 

The black plating over his interface array shifted out of the way before his fingers had done more than brush against it. Heat rose from the bared array, and the covers over spike and valve were just as quick to snap open. A moaning keen rose from Prowl's vocalizer as his spike pressurized into his waiting hand, but most of his attention was focused on his other hand where he traced the already drenched rim of his valve, lubricant welling up and over his fingers. He gave a few half-sparked pulls on his spike before abandoning it for what he really needed- some relief for his clenching, begging, empty valve. 

Plunging two fingers in, Prowl moaned. His valve was molten, mesh swollen and oversensitive. Calipers rippled around the intruders, and Prowl froze for a moment to adjust. But need soon had him moving, fingers pumping. Rubbing his anterior node with his other hand had Prowl biting at his lip plates. Soon though, two fingers weren't enough and a wanting, desperate Prowl shoved a third in with the next stroke. Prowl keened at the sudden new stretch. He continued to stroke, and moved his fingers over the sensor nodes in his valve, working to reach the ceiling node in the back, desperate for more, for release. 

Hands moved frantically, and he writhed on the berth, trying to gain that last bit of stimulation he needed. Fans whined, and he panted, mouth wide open, trying to pull in more cool air from his secondary vents. Blue static danced over black and white plating as the charge built and built. The pleasure spiraled up, and Prowl threw his head back, cables taut, back arching, doorwings quivering against the bedding. He hung there for an endless moment, bowed in tight-strung pleasure, before it snapped. Overload crashed over Prowl, and he cried out, optics flashing white before going dark as he collapsed back down onto the berth engine purring. 

Turning onto his side, Prowl groaned. Still panting, working to disperse the heat generated by his exertions, Prowl forced himself to power up his optics. Visual feed bleery from overload, he had to reset it a few times before the static faded. Bracing himself on shaky arms, Prowl sat up, then reached for a cube of coolant and energon. 

Settling back to sit propped up against the cave wall, Prowl sipped at the cubes. The stone wall felt blessedly cool against his back and doorwings, and he flattened the panels against it as much as he could to facilitate absorbing the cold and expelling the built up warmth. He finished the energon quickly, needing the fuel after his drive, recharge, and the exercise after. The coolant he sipped slower, savoring the rush of chill that flowed from his secondary tank as he consumed it. His processor cleared some as the fuel hit, and he contemplated his situation while he was able. Heat would soon leave him muddled and unable to focus on anything but finding overload. Might as well relax and enjoy the brief break. Prowl knew he didn't have long before the next wave hit, and these interludes of sanity and cooling off would become shorter and shorter until he passed the peak. Opticing the cube in his hand, and gauging the levels on his fuel readout, Prowl decided better safe than sorry, and grabbed another cube of each. With how unpredictable this cycle had been, Prowl wasn't sure it would follow the usual pattern, and let him refuel regularly. Already he could feel arousal ramping back up, quicker then he expected after satisfying the last wave. 

Sighing, Prowl let his helm thunk back against wall. Resigned, he chugged the new cubes, already knowing he wouldn't have time to enjoy them. Maneuvering carefully to keep from scraping his door panels, he scooted back down onto the berth, and waited for the next wave to drag him under.

-=-=-=-

Red Alert watched the readouts from the various monitors around him. Datacables connected him to consoles, each one keeping track of everything in the Autobots' territory. Weather, movement, perimeter, video feeds, radar, the location of each mecha, various sensors both inside and outside the Ark- all of it meticulously processed and scanned by Red Alert. The reading that was currently the center of his concern was the weather report. 

“What's wrong, Red?” Inferno asked, noticing the increased twitching of Red Alert's fingers and plating. His shift in the security room didn't officially start for another groon or so, but he'd gotten into the habit of being there early the last few weeks in his desire to avoid Prowl and the uncomfortable urges the SIC had been bringing out in the normally laid-back firetruck.

“The humans are predicting a severe storm in the northwest area of our territory in the next solar cycle or two, and I am concerned about possible breaches in our perimeter. Decepticons could use it to infiltrate! Especially if the weather takes out our perimeter alarms, or our defenses!” Red Alert said, hands clenching on the edge of his desk. It wasn't just the possibility of a Decepticon attack that had him worried. That was the area where Prowl was holed up. A spark of electricity crackled off the end of his sensor horn as his anxiety increased. 

“Hey, hey, it's alright Red,” Inferno trilled, cupping Red Alert's helm in his large black hand, thumb rubbing gently against the sparking sensor horn. “Those lazy slaggers never attack in bad weather. And we have time to set up extra generators and power packs if you want. We can even set up an inner defense perimeter if you think we need to,” he said reassuringly. 

Red Alert leaned into the soft touch, comforted somewhat. His denta worried at his bottom lip as he debated whether to tell Inferno his other reason for worry. This was the 'bot he trusted above all others- his sparkmate, though not yet his bonded- and try though he might, Red Alert couldn't watch the monitors non-stop. Even he needed recharge. 

Processor made up, Red Alert reached out to Inferno, drawing him closer until he could snuggle up against the broad red chassis. A quick scan to doublecheck and ensure there were no other listeners, and Red Alert explained. “Prowl is out there, too,” he said, vocalizer warbling. “He's in a cave, on medical leave, because he's in a mating heat cycle. Has been out there for a solar cycle already. What if the storm traps him there? What if there is a rockslide or something? What if the Decepticons do attack, and they find him before we can rescue him? What if-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Inferno cut him off. He was surprised to learn about Prowl being in heat, but at least now he knew why he'd felt the way he did around Prowl. But right now he needed to calm Red Alert back down. “First, take a deep vent. There we go. Okay, say there is a rockslide- Prowl's ina cave, and I assume he took fuel and supplies, so he'd be fine even if that happened. We can even send a couple of the Aerialbots out to scout the area as soon as the weather clears up enough to check. He wouldn't be trapped for long, because you know right where he is, right?” Inferno waited for Red to nod, and kissed him on the helm. “See, that's not anything to worry about. As for Decepticons- well, you have sensors up out there right? And we'd know the moment they came right? And did Prowl or you set up defenses near his cave?” Another nod, and Inferno grinned. “There you go, nothing to worry about. We'd all be piled into Skyfire and defending Prowl before the Decepticreeps even knew we caught them.”

Red Alert sighed, and let himself relax against Inferno. Perhaps Inferno was right. Letting himself take some comfort from the logic of Inferno's reasoning, Red Alert went back to watching his feeds, safely snuggled against his sparkmate.

-=-=-=-


	4. On Fire

-=-=-=-

 

 

The storm raged, rain sheeting down. Thunderclouds marched over the mountains, growling and roaring. Lightning streaked across the sky, and fierce gusts of wind whipped down the valleys and up the mountainsides.

 

Skywarp twisted in the gale, a black and purple F-16 flying into the wind. His spark leapt with excitement. He hadn't been stormdancing in far too long, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Battling against the wind gusts, fighting not to be thrown into the mountains by the downdrafts and updrafts, feeling the electricity in the air tingle across his protoform, the rain rattling against his plating. This, this was living. This was excitement, a challenge he could enjoy. He just wished his trinemates were out here with him.

 

 

He'd left the Nemesis about two joor ago, well, been kicked out was more accurate. Bored from rattling around in the underwater ship with nothing to do, Skywarp had searched for someone to entertain him. But everyone else was busy; the Constructies were building something, Rumble and Frenzy were being punished by Soundwave, Thundercracker was on monitor duty, like _ew_ did he want to hang out with the coneheads, the Combaticons were off plotting somewhere, and the Stunties were sulking in their rooms because Motormaster had grounded them. He'd tried hanging out with Astrotrain and Blitzwing, but the triplechangers had tossed him out of the rec room, literally, after he'd spilled Blitz' highgrade. And everyone else was boring as slag.

 

 

So that had left Starscream. Finding Starscream in his lab, Skywarp had popped in, chattering away and poking at things. Until he'd knocked over a beaker containing something that smoked and sizzled as it ate into the table below it. Skywarp froze and looked at Starscream with wide red optics, an “Oops. Sorry 'Screamer.” all he could think to say. Starscream had snapped, screeching and berating Skywarp. He'd frogmarched 'Warp out of his labs and basically ordered him out of the Nemesis for the next solar cycle, or else he'd be the next one cleaning out the half-flooded lower decks.

 

So Skywarp had left, flying about aimlessly for most of the solar cycle, until he'd picked up reports of a spectacular storm in the west. It was close to Autobot territory, but he was bored, and couldn't resist. Besides, as long as he didn't use his comm, and stayed in the clouds with all their signal-disrupting lightning, he'd be fine. And he was glad he had- this storm was just what he needed. Raw beauty and challenging and exhilarating.

 

He flew hard, thrusters screaming, frame hot, all systems in sync. Riding the leading edge, he caught a downdraft and dove. Careening down a valley at insane speeds, Skywarp laughed. He skimmed up the side of the mountain, then shot straight up. Weaving through the clouds a bit more, he dove again headed for the next valley. This time, as he was pulling up, he thought he caught something on his sensors. Flying back over, he felt it again, so searched for a spot to land. Spotting a flat area on the top of a steep hill, he warped over and transformed, landing. Sensors ranging out, Skywarp turned in a circle, hand up to shield his optics from the gusting rain. A sudden change in wind direction brought the scent of something irresistibly sweet. Skywarp whipped around in that direction, optics and sensors questing that way. As he followed the scent, the warmth brought from the effort of flight was slowly, quietly replaced by a different heat. Walking to the edge of the hill, overlooking a steep descent, Skywarp could see into the narrow valley, almost more of a ravine. Angling his wings, he used finely tuned flight sensors and instinct to determine how the wind was playing down the valley.

 

Activating his thrusters, he flew across the gap, following the delicious scent. As he got closer a flash of lightning lit up the hill ahead of him, revealing a winding road, and below that, a dark opening. He changed his path and landed on the ledge in front of the cave. If it hadn't been for the lightning, he might not have ever seen this and flown in circles for hours. The scent definitely came from the cave, strong and alluring. A wide grin split his face- he'd found the prize! Not that he was sure what the prize was, but it was sure to be tasty, sweet as it smelled. Maybe he should risk comming TC and Starscream, see if they wanted to share... A snarl left him, engines growling. No, no sharing, this prize was his. Not even TC.

 

As he started into the cave, mind already hazy, he had to tuck his wings back as far as he could, and still his shoulders scraped the walls some. Reaching a door, he tried to open it, snarling again when he found it wouldn't budge. He raised a fist to pound it in thwarted anger, when he heard a whimpered moan. Leaning an audial against the door, he listened, hand pressed to the door. Yes, there was someone in there. Someone letting out the sweetest little keens, and moans, and groans. Skywarp crooned, engines purring, claws scraping down the side of the door. He flared his EM, and heard a startled gasp. Another EM immediately answered, so full of _need-want-frustration_ that Skywarp's knee joints quivered, and he pressed closer to the door. Crooning louder, he reached out to the potent EM field with his own, offering relief and pleasure. He heard another moan, and sounds of movement. Hearing sounds of fumbling on the other side of the door, Skywarp stepped back slightly. A metal clang from something being dropped and then the door opened. Skywarp swayed, and let out a moan of his own. Oh, the scent was nearly overwhelming! Unshuttering optics he hadn't realized he'd closed, Skywarp looked at the mech who'd opened the door. Black and white plating was dripping with condensation, gray faceplates flushed, and cooling fans on the highest setting buzzed. Doorwings held high and optics blazing nearly white with charge. A glimpse of transfluid splashed abdominal plates, and thighs soaked with lubricant was all he got before the mech lunged, hands reaching and pulling him into the room.

 

Skywarp had just enough processing power left to kick the door shut as he came in, before he was thoroughly distracted by the hands roaming over his frame and the hot mouth panting and nibbling on his neck cabling. His own hands were already busy running over hot metal, stroking over the mech's waist and backplates. He played with the lightbar there, while he licked the red chevron so enticingly close to his mouth and got a shudder and another ragged moan from the mech in his arms.

 

Kissing and caressing, they made their way step by distracted step to the messy pile of bedding in the corner, until their peds finally hit the edge. Slipping from his grip, the mech lay back on the berth, and reached up to him. Skywarp wasted no time, and eagerly followed him down onto the berth, covering the slightly smaller mech with his frame.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Prowl had never had a heat like this one. The raging need was unbearable. He'd heard stories, but he'd thought them just that, stories. He hadn't thought it possible to be so overcome, brought so close to the edge of sanity just from the surging, unending arousal. There were no breaks, no time between waves to cool off and clear his head. Three solar cycles in, and his processor was so hazed from the constant _want_ he could barely remember to fuel. The insistent warnings from his fuel gauge were the only thing that could tear him away from the struggle to overload yet again, at least long enough to gulp down a cube of energon and coolant. Recharge eluded him, even though exhaustion gripped every wire. The burning need would pull him back to wakefulness before he could even properly power down.

 

Every cable in his frame was aching from straining straining straining for release, and his valve was sore from repeated use and his harsh desperate fingers. Even his spike was sore, tender from over-stimulation and being pressurized for so long.

 

Prowl groaned, and relaxed his grip from his spike, another stripe of transfluid added to his abdominal plates. Panting harshly, he keened in frustration, fire still flowing in his lines, all of it seeming to pool in his valve. He nearly sobbed as he pushed his fingers in yet again. He barely noticed the storm outside for the one raging in his own frame, though every time thunder rumbled and crashed nearby, the vibrations would send shivers through his over sensitive neural-net.

 

He whimpered as he fought to push his charge over- maybe _this_ time he would get a break- one hand working his valve, the other stroking seams and plucking at wires. Keens and moans filled the air as he worked, but the charge just refused to budge-

 

Prowl froze. Had he heard...? yes, there it was, a croon, and scratching at the door. An EM field brushed against his, and he gasped. Suddenly all of Prowl's need was focused on the mech on the other side of the door, and he flared his own field, pushing all the need and want he could into it. The answering croon and teek offering relief had him scrambling for the door, hands clumsy as they unbarred the door. A tiny portion of his processor pinged at him that this was a bad idea, but the rest was only thinking finally _finally_ a mate to help with his heat!

 

Prowl yanked open the door, and looked at his mate. Tall, black, silver, and purple plating, gorgeous wings and a strong rumbling engine. Prowl lunged, grabbing, pulling, dragging the mech into his den. He ran his hands all over the black plating, and pressed himself against the relatively cool armor. A tiny groan escaped as he tucked his helm under taller mech's chin, and breathed in the wind- and rain-washed scent. Nibbling and licking the strong cables there, he nearly purred at the feel of hands on his plating, pressing him closer.

 

When his ped hit the berth, he tore himself away just long enough to lay down, reaching for his mate who followed him eagerly, red optics bright. Their EM fields meshed fully, and wound together, linking. His mate leaned over him, settling between his legs, hip plates brushing tantalizingly against his open array. They kissed, glossae tangling. Prowl panted into his mate's mouth, whining, hands sliding down to stroke over dark silver pelvic plating. Plating that shifted aside immediately, revealing a spike that's cover was already open and pressurizing quickly into Prowl's waiting hands. He guided it to his scorching, dripping valve, and keened as his mate sank in. His calipers fluttered and clenched around the thick length, stretched wider than anything he'd felt before, pressing all the way to the back of his valve. The stinging stretch had him pulling his mouth away from the kiss, gasping, and his hands gripped the silver hips pressed tight to his own, holding them still as he adjusted.

 

His mate growled, kissing and licking at the side of his helm, and up to his chevron, hands grasping Prowl's shoulders, fingers digging into the rubber of his tires. A slow retreat scraped the spike deliciously over tight mesh and aching nodes, and Prowl keened again. A keen that turned into a warbling cry as that spike plunged back in swiftly. Pleasure speared Prowl, his mate's spike raking over nodes before slamming into his valve's ceiling node. His mate began to move, sliding out and back in, faster and faster.

 

Hands scrabbling over his mate's back plates and wings, legs squeezing tight around his mate's pumping hips, Prowl gave himself over to the pounding pleasure. Charge flickered over their plating, and Prowl chased it with his glossa around the slats of the pectoral vents of his mate, making him growl louder. A sudden nip to the tip of his chevron had overload crashing over Prowl, and he cried out. A few strokes later and his mate followed him over with a roar, spike pulsing deep within him. The wash of charge-rich transfluid crackling over his nodes had Prowl moaning as a second overload tripped through his frame. His mate moaned as rippling calipers worked around his spike, drawing the nanite rich transfluid up to the top of Prowl's valve to the waiting entrance of the gestation chamber.

 

Prowl chirred from the code-deep satisfaction of the feeling of the transfluid settling in his chamber. His mate was slumped over him, wings trembling and vents roaring. Prowl hummed and reached a hand up to pet one quivering wing, stroking over the black plane. Tracing a finger over the purple symbol in the middle of the wing, Prowl began to frown. That niggling in the back of his processor was getting stronger now that the charge and accompanying arousal had momentarily abated, but exhaustion was quickly sweeping over him. His mate twitched and pushed himself up to look down at Prowl. Looking at the red optics set in pale silver face and black helm, realization came.

 

“Skywarp.” Prowl whispered, as his hand slipped from the wing. He might have wanted to move, escape, something, but his over-worked frame had other ideas. Recharge was already pulling him into its dark embrace, when he heard Skywarp mutter, “Oh, slag me.”

 

-=-=-=-


	5. Molten

-=-=-=-

 

Prowl came out of recharge slowly, his nearly empty tanks grumbling. He needed to wash as his plating was gummed up with lubricant and transfluid, and everything was sore. Yet, he didn't want to move. There was a warm purring frame pressed against his back as he lay on his side, field woven with his and gentle hands traced his seams. Those hands moved up to pet his doorwings, causing them to twitch, and Prowl to murmur softly at the pleasant touch. A happy coo came from the mech behind him, and he nuzzled the back of Prowl's helm. Prowl reluctantly powered on his optics, and stretched, already looking for the energon that his tank was demanding. The petting was starting to send heat through his lines as well and he knew he needed to fuel and hopefully clean up before it really struck.

 

 

His mate whined as he moved away from the petting hands. Prowl turned, smiling, to reassure him, then froze. The sight of Skywarp snuggled behind him with optics dark and still half in recharge jolted him, and memory caught up with Prowl. He jumped to his peds, clumsy with haste, and was halfway to the door before he stopped. Turning back to watch the sleepy Seeker, Prowl frantically tried to make sense of what he was doing. Why wasn't he reaching for a weapon? He had brought his rifle, just in case. Why weren't his combat protocols activating? For that matter, why wasn't his battle computer activating? He was in the presence of an enemy... right? Pinging the computer, all queries came back _negative: Seeker Skywarp - ally_. What?! Demands for explanation were answered with a situational analysis that left Prowl's engine stalling- _Mating protocols enabled: abnormal heat, unable to satisfy - mate needed. Seeker Skywarp: accepted, non-hostile, mated – ally. Solution: conclude heat with ally._

 

Mouth gaping, and optics widening, Prowl watched as Skywarp reached out towards him whining. Skywarp started to frown, feeling the shock teeking through their meshed fields. Powering up the rest of the way, red optics flickered on, then searched the room for what was disturbing his mate, before coming back to rest on bright blue optics and tight clamped armor.

 

 

It would have been highly amusing at any other time, Prowl thought, to see the normally fierce Seeker squawk and scrambling back from him. His own shock mostly overwhelmed any other feelings he might have had though.

 

 

Skywarp recovered quicker than Prowl, and tried to act nonchalant, leaning back against the wall. “Hey Autobot,” he said, smirking. “Fancy meeting you here.” Red optics flicked about, taking in and assessing the room, lingering on the boxes of fuel and the archway beyond the foot of the berth. Focusing back on Prowl- who still hadn't moved and whose field was spiking with conflicting emotions of fear, arousal, confusion and amusement- Skywarp frowned, and tried to pull his field in to better conceal his own emotions, and found he couldn't. Narrowing his optics, he concentrated, feeling out the edges of his field and how they melded and wove in with the other. Puzzling over why his field was being uncooperative brought a faded memory up out of his memory banks.

 

 

Optics spiraled wide, stunned, and he looked at the tense black and white mech before him. Drawing in air through his vents and nose, he let his olfactory and chemosensors analyze it, while he picked out the underlying signals in the EM meshed with his own. “Ah, Pit take it,” He muttered when the result came up. “We've frelling gone and _imprinted_ on each other.”

 

 

Snapping out of his daze, Prowl's doorwings shot up in surprise. “Imprinted?” he asked,. “You mean-”

 

“Yeah,” Skywarp interrupted, scrubbing his faceplates with one hand. “Even if I wanted to leave, or we wanted to slag each other, we can't. We'd only be hurting ourselves, way our fields are meshed. And I can't leave, 'cause trying to pull my field out of yours would wreak both our circuits to Pit and back. Not to mention how we'd both probably overheat 'til we fry, since it'd be even harder for you to do your heat solo, and I'd likely go into a mating rage, and either fight or frag 'til stasis.” He laughed at Prowl's slack-jawed expression, and shrugged. “Hey, I've seen it happen before- it's ugly and there's no use in trying to pretty it up.”

 

 

When Prowl said and did nothing, besides close his mouth, Skywarp shrugged again, and scooted over until he could reach into the box of energon. Drinking one himself, he held another up for Prowl and nudged him with his field. When Prowl finally took it from him, and hesitantly sat back down beside him on the berth, Skywarp sighed. No use trying to fight or run away, and Skywarp had never been more than a soldier- following orders, going with the flow, he was good at. Planning and working out the ramifications of his actions? Not so much. Figured he might as well make the most of it, if fighting wasn't an option. Grabbing coolant for each of them, and another energon for himself (because, hey, this stuff was good, better than the weak slag they had in the Decepticon's base, and one cube hadn't filled his tank), Skywarp turned to Prowl.

 

 

“So,” he said, sipping his cubes, “What now?”

 

-=-=-=-

Sipping at his own cubes bemusedly, Prowl turned his attention back to the Seeker at the question. “I can feel the heat rising again, so I suggest we finish our fuel, and bathe quickly, before we get caught up in other things.”

 

 

The Seeker perked up. “Bathe? You mean, you actually got a way to get clean in here?” he asked, wings fluttering in anticipation as his optics strayed to the archway.

 

 

Prowl nodded, amused despite the situation at his eagerness. “Yes, there is a hot spring in the next cavern, and I brought cloths and solvent.”

 

 

He barely got the words out before Skywarp bounced up, grabbed his hand, and practically dragged him through the opening. “Slag fueling first, we can finish our cubes in the bath!” he chirped.

 

 

Setting the cubes on the floor by the side of the spring, the two mechs climbed in. The spring was just big enough for the two of them to sit in, hot water up to Prowl's shoulders, and Skywarp's chest. Prowl sighed, and relaxed, letting the warmth ease the soreness in his tight cables. Skywarp seemed just as happy to soak for the moment. Black wings wagged slowly through the water, and armor flared to let the liquid reach areas that hadn't been cleaned in far too long. The jet groaned in delight, before grabbing a cloth and setting to wiping at his seams and plates. Clean, he leaned back again, even shuttering his optics and leaning his helm back against the taller side of the pool where he sat.

 

Prowl luxuriated for a few breems, but the nagging, rising tide of arousal quickly had him standing and reaching for the solvent and a washcloth. The water lapped at his thighs as he scrubbed at the loosened mess on his plates. His efficient rubbing began to slow soon though, as the wave finally hit. Dropping the cloth in the water, Prowl's hands began rubbing at his plating with a much different purpose. Optics locked on his mate, Prowl walked through the water until he stood with a ped on either side of Skywarp's legs and stroked his hands over the top edge of Skywarp's wings. He leaned over and captured his mate's lips just as red optics unshuttered and met his own blazing blue ones.

 

Skywarp groaned and reached up to stroke already hot plating. Prowl's field already pulsed with need, making Skywarp's engines rev and his fans kick on. He pressed into Prowl, leaning up. Prowl whimpered as he was pushed back, and Skywarp crooned reassuringly. “Just a moment, Prowl, and then I'll give you everything you need,” he said, as he stood. He shifted his plating aside and let his spike out, which was immediately attacked by eager hands. Groaning, he held still a moment, holding Prowl tight, before dragging those hands away from his array. Prowl whined and squirmed, trying to free his hands, but Skywarp just chuckled, and guided them to the lower side of the spring.

 

 

There, he turned Prowl around, and placed a hand between those fluttering doorwings. Pushing gently, he lowered Prowl over the edge of the pool. He admired the view of Prowl bent over, aft wiggling, doorwings fluttering temptingly. Leaning over he captured one of those panels, holding it still to drag his glossa along the side. Prowl gasped, engine kicking into a higher gear, and Skywarp heard the distinct _shnikt-click-ck_ sound of an interface array being bared. Skywarp's free hand slid down over Prowl's aft to tease the rim of his valve. He continued to tease, and mouthed his way down the doorwing, while Prowl mewled and whimpered.

 

Prowl pressed his aft back trying to encourage more, but the touches stayed torturously light. He was momentarily distracted though when Skywarp descended on his doorwing joints, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive wires and cables. He arched into the hot mouth playing there, and that distraction was all Skywarp wanted. Grabbing onto the twitching black hips under him, Skywarp rubbed the tip of his spike through the lubricant he'd smeared around the valve rim for just a moment, then pushed his way in all in one smooth thrust. Prowl gasped and writhed under him, hands digging into the cave floor, and his calipers cinched tight around the sudden invasion.

 

 

Skywarp groaned at the exquisite squeeze on his spike, ex-venting hotly. He began to thrust as soon as Prowl relaxed enough for him to move, their plates ringing and echoing in the cavern as he snapped his hips forward again and again. Prowl's bumper scraped over the stone floor from the hard, fast pace and his fingers dug grooves into the floor. Charge was already streaking across his plating, and he nearly sobbed as each thrust slammed the tip of the spike into his ceiling node. Skywarp growled, and the vibrations traveled through Prowl from where he was pressed against Prowl's back, seeming to thrum all the way through his protoform. He pressed back harder, so close, trying to find that last little bit he needed to push him into overload. A sudden bite to the top edge of his doorwing was all it took, and the pleasure-pain sent Prowl crashing shrieking into overload. Skywarp yelled, releasing the mouthful of doorwing, as Prowl's calipers milked his spike. Hot transfluid splashed against sensitive valve walls, and Prowl moaned.

 

 

They lay panting on the side of the spring, armor fluffed and fans spinning, trying to cool down. Prowl groaned as Skywarp slid his spike out. A wet cloth passed softly over his array and thighs. Drowsy and still hazy, Prowl lethargically responded to Skywarp's prodding, and crawled up out of the pool. Skywarp sat, pulling Prowl into his lap, and pressed the unfinished cube of energon to his lips. Prowl drank, finishing the cube, and then sipped at the coolant that was brought to his mouth. His mate's encouraging words blurred into nothing more than a comforting croon, and Prowl snuggled into his warm chassis.

 

 

Skywarp picked up the snuggling mech, and carried him back to the berth. There he lay down, Prowl sprawled across chest. Prowl purred and nuzzled him before slipping into a light recharge.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Skywarp gazed at the ceiling of the cave, brooding. Prowl had been napping for three groons now, and while he wasn't the fastest processor sparked, he wasn't exactly underclocked either. Now that he had a moment to think he was beginning to recognize the magnitude of the scrap pile he'd landed himself in. He was in a cave, fragging the _Autobot SIC_. And that fragging was going to result in a sparkling. Oh, sure he'd thought about having a bitlet, but certainly not during the war. _Definitely_ not with an Autobot. He'd always imagined one of his trinemates carrying (probably Thundercracker, since Skywarp couldn't see Starscream handling all the changes and mood-swings of carrying well), and him being one of the sires. He'd imagined them raising a Seekerling together, not siring a sparkling with a grounder. Although, Skywarp mused trailing a hand over a twitching doorwing, if Prowl had enough Seeker in his background, the Praxian might kindle a flier.

 

A nudge along the trinebond distracted him from wondering what the sparkling might look like. He ignored it for a breem or so, as the nudges became more insistent, trying to figure out what he was going to do. Skywarp finally responded when the nudging became a pointed poke. ~Heya, TC, what's up?~

 

~Where in the Pit are you?~ Thundercracker growled. ~And why in Unicron's name do you have your comm off? I know Starscream kicked you out of the base, but that was almost two solar cycles ago! We need you to come back, there's plans for a raid in three solar cycles that we need to go over.~

 

~Uh... Sorry TC, but I'm kinda stuck where I am for a few more solar cycles. I'm, uh-~ His scrambling for a reasonable excuse was cut off by Starscream pushing into the bond chatter.

 

~What do you mean 'stuck'?!~ Starscream screeched. ~Get your sorry aft back here! I'm not going to have my armor shredded because you're off somewhere sulking like a sparkling!~

 

Skywarp cringed, and the sudden agitated teek of his field made Prowl shift and murmur against him. Smoothing out his field and soothing the mech on his chest, Skywarp thought up a quick lie. ~Look,~ he sent, ~I would have been back already, but I twisted my wing up in a crash while stormdancing. I was able to straighten it out, but now I'm grounded until internal repairs finish the job. I didn't let you know 'cause it's embarrassing.~

 

~Oh, really?~ was Starscream's highly skeptical reply. ~ And I suppose that your warp drive was damaged as well?~ he scoffed.

 

~Yep,~ Skywarp sent back shortly, and cringed at the blast of anger and disbelief that came back. He was pulled away from his trinemate's ranting by Prowl stirring. Prowl's frame was already warm, and he was nuzzling Skywarp's canopy, his engine purring. ~Gotta go, busy now, I'll be back when it's safe to leave~ he sent distractedly and blocked Starscream mid-outraged screech. It was only the deep concern from Thundercracker's side of the bond that made Skywarp pause a moment and murmur ~Later, TC, I'll be back in a few solar cycles.~ before firmly blocking that side as well.

 

Now free to, he turned all his attention to the needy mech in his arms. Prowl was already whining and rubbing his hot array against Skywarp's, hands and mouth playing over his canopy. Skywarp released his spike, and Prowl trilled excitedly, and pressed his hips down, rubbing. The feel of that hot wet valve sliding over the underside of his spike had Skywarp bucking and grabbing at Prowl's hips. Shifting them both until they lined up, he thrust up into that slick valve with a low grunt. Prowl's fingers curled against his canopy, skreeling over the glass, and a quiet staticy moan came from him. They began a slow, gentle, rocking rhythm. Skywarp reached up and stroked the doorwings arched over them, running his fingers over them. He played with them, finding all the ways to make Prowl twitch and moan. Claws dipped into seams, and played with wires. A pinch to the corners earned him a squeak, and a flick to the alt-mode door handle had Prowl gasping. The doorwing's joints and hinges were particularly fun to play with since they had Prowl keening and writhing over him, their chestplates scraping together delightfully.

 

Soon though Prowl's whimpers became more pleading,and his movements more demanding. Skywarp brought his legs up and braced his heels against the berth. Grabbing Prowl's hips, he used the extra leverage to pound up into the tight wet valve. Prowl took the extra force gladly, a spark-felt groan escaping as he sat up to take advantage of the forceful thrusts, bracing his hands on Skywarp's shoulders. The change in angle had him gasping and shuddering, Skywarp's spike pressing deeper and hitting new nodes. He matched Skywarp's tempo, lifting up on his knees and dropping down to grind into the hips rising to meet his. Their plates rang, Prowl's aft clanging against Skywarp's thighs, Skywarp's hips slapping Prowl's inner thighs. Skywarp slid his hands up Prowl's waist, and slipped careful claws under his bumper, toying with sensitive wires and mechanisms there. Prowl's engine revved hard, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. His own hands tightened on Skywarp's shoulder vents, and his fingers slipped between the delicate slats, making Skywarp release his own cry. Charge crackled wildly in the gaps of their flared armor, and it only took a few more hard thrusts before they were both overloading.

 

They lay there, panting and fans going for a while, hot plating pinging and ticking as it cooled. Skywarp had barely cooled enough for his fans to stop when Prowl moaned and began to move, swiveling his hips. Skywarp's spike, still seated in Prowl's valve, twitched and repressurized fully. Shuttering his optics, Skywarp ex-vented. Looks like there would be no break this time. Opening his optics again, and resigning himself to an exhausting if pleasurable solar cycle, he pet his whimpering mate and set about fulfilling the needs of this wave.

 

-=-=-=-

 


	6. Burning Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where a little bit of plot happens.

-=-=-=-

Thundercracker watched Starscream pace in their quarters, and frowned. He tuned out the ranting and raving with long practice, letting a small portion of his processor keep track of the stream of words just enough to make the appropriate noises, and get his attention if there should be something to which he actually needed to listen. The rest of his mind was puzzling and mulling over what Skywarp had said, concerned. A glance at Starscream showed he was still ranting full throttle, so it was safe to go back to his own thoughts. Just what had Skywarp meant by 'busy now, back when it's safe'? Was he truly injured? Was he trapped somewhere, by more than just the inconvenience of being unable to fly? If he was lying to them, then why, and why wasn't he returning? Was he captured? And what on Cybertron did those feelings that had slipped through at the end mean? Concern began to turn into worry, and his spark felt tight in his chest. Lifting a hand to his canopy, he rubbed over his spark, trying to ease the feeling.

 

He got so absorbed in his circling thoughts, he failed to notice Starscream's rant trailing off as he turned observant optics Thundercracker's way. Optics narrowing, he analyzed the feelings coming from the open side of the bond, and scoffed. The sudden sound, after many kliks of silence was enough to bring Thundercracker's full attention back. “What's got your wires in a twist, now? Surely you aren't actually worried about that insubordinant little glitch!” Starscream said derisively, a sneer on his dark gray face, throwing his hands out and wings hiked high. “He's just off somewhere sulking and being lazy.”

 

Thundercracker crossed his arms defensively, blue wings pulled down. “Did you catch what 'Warp said, and the way he said it? It was odd. He was distracted, and he said 'busy now, will come back when it's _safe to leave_ '. Busy doing what, and safe in what way? Interesting choice of words if he's just being lazy or sulking,” he said pointedly. “And he seemed certain that he needed a few solar cycles to do whatever it is.” He watched his trineleader's optics brighten and narrow again, shrewd mind going over the conversation again, picking it apart.

 

“You make an interesting point,” Starscream said slowly, pacing again, this time in thought rather than in anger. “He _was_ rather evasive. What could that scatterbrained pit-spawn be up to now? And where?”

 

Thundercracker stood up straighter, uncrossing his arms. Blue wings perked up a little. “Do you think you can find him? His comms are off, and he's blocking us both.”

 

Starscream smirked and turned towards the computer terminal on their desk. Sitting in the chair, his blue hands typed quickly on the console. Pulling up the data he needed, Starscream looked it over, while saying smugly over his shoulder, “Warp said he was stormdancing, didn't he? Let's see where there were storms strong enough to be sufficiently entertaining to bother flying in during the last...” his voice trailed off. “Oh, this is interesting. Guess where the biggest storm in the last two days was?”

 

“Where?” Thundercracker asked, leaning over Starscream's white wings to peer around his red shoulder vent. His vents stuttered a little when he saw the meteorological map on the screen.

 

“Right on top of the Autobot's base,” Starscream answered unnecessarily, dark amusement in his voice.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Optimus looked around the conference table. They had just returned from engaging the Decepticons. All of his officers looked to be in fairly good spirits- if a little dented around the edges from today's battle- chatting amongst themselves quietly. Casualties were light, and there had been no human injuries, and even very little structural damage. Most of the human workers had taken off early since it was a Friday before a holiday, and between that and the fact it was a civilian installation, the Decepticons had so little resistance they basically walked right in. Really, the only thing that kept this from being a total victory for the Decepticons- since they got away with all the energon and supplies they had stolen- was the fact that no Autobots were injured while several Decepticons had been.

 

They had been in and out almost before the Autobots had got there, though not quite quick enough to avoid a battle entirely. The Autobots had caught them by surprise as they were gathering to leave and dividing up the goods. Astrotrain and Blast Off had taken off right away, cargo holds so stuffed with energon cubes they could barely close their bay doors. The Stunticons had leapt at the Autobots, and the twins had been distracted by Thrust, Ramjet, and Dirge targeting them for a vicious strafing run. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, of course, were happy to give as good as they got and sent the jets scattering and trailing smoke with blasters and jet judo. Brawl and Motormaster had been enough to keep the heavy hitters like Ironhide and Optimus busy. Meanwhile the Constructicons had grabbed up boxes and piles of materials, after loading what they could into Long Haul's bed, and taken off after the shuttles. The retreat had been called by Soundwave not long after that. Brawl limped after them, while Motormaster carried his own arm, and Breakdown, in stasis, was carried by his other teammates.

 

As relatively easy and fast as this battle had been, Optimus was wary about going into battle without his chief tactical officer there to guide the troops. The outcome could have been very different if the Constructicons had stayed to fight, or if Megatron had been there. It made him uneasy not having the calm, steady voice of Prowl rising over the TacNet comm, with his advanced tactical/battle computer watching and moving mechs to where they were most needed. They hadn't heard anything from Prowl all week, since he had left last Friday night. All comms were diverted to his messaging system, and Prowl hadn't commed back any, not even to update. Of course, he could just be... distracted. Optimus had almost worked himself up enough worry to send someone to check on him, and if Prowl didn't answer by tomorrow, he would do that.

 

Optimus brought himself out of his musings with a flex of his armor and a small sigh through his vents. Tapping a finger on the table to gain his officers' attention, he began the meeting. “Alright, gentlemchs, let's get this debrief over with so we can all enjoy the rest of the evening. Give me your reports and what we learned today, any speculations on what the 'Cons might be up to with what they took, and anything we need to fix or change.”

 

Most of it was routine, the usual after-action reports: shift changes for those needing light duty to recover, crew reactions and morale, updates on supplies needed and used, and speculations about Decepticon plots. They were wrapping up the review of the battle when a comment caught his attention. Turning to Ironhide, Optimus asked, “Wait, repeat what you said.”

 

Raising an optic ridge, Ironhide said, “I was sayin' I found it peculiar that 'Screamer and the rest of the command trine weren't there.”

 

“Tha's righ',” Jazz said, perking up from where he had been comfortably slouched in his chair. “It was ol' Soundwave in charge. Might 'splain why they managed to actually make off with wha' they wanted.”

 

Red Alert's head jerked up from where he had been working over a datapad. “Can we verify they weren't there? Their absence is highly unusual, and that's suspicious in and of itself! We need to try and track down their whereabouts during the battle, see if maybe Cosmos picked up on their movements. Starscream is far too cunning to lose track of, and this battle could have been a diversion to cover up the trine's actions,” he said, voice firm, though he teeked anxious and more than a little agitated. His fingers twitched on the datapad he held, and a hint of a spark glittered along his sensor horn.

 

Optimus nodded. “I agree. It's never good to lose track of Starscream. Have Blaster start watching closely for comms and transmissions, and get in touch with Cosmos. He can began searching for any signs of the trine, while we go over SkySpy's footage and see if we can track down those missing Seekers.” Looking around the table he asked, “Any other suggestions or issues?”

 

The meeting broke up pretty quickly after that. Duties were divided and assigned, and the officers stood to leave. Ratchet, Ironhide, and Wheeljack were already engaged in friendly bickering as they headed out the door to grab some fuel. Red Alert lingered behind at the table though, and Optimus looked at him questioningly. “I have an additional item I want to bring to your attention, and, especially considering the command trine's sudden absence, it might concern Prowl's safety,” Red Alert said quietly.

 

Jazz, who had been almost out the door, hesitated and turned back, visor darkening with worry. Optimus saw, and gestured for him to retake his seat. “What has you so troubled, Red Alert?” Optimus asked as the spy sat.

 

“There was a storm four nights ago. You know I was worried about it, and made some modifications to our defenses in case of power failure or losing contact with the perimeter sensors. Which was a good thing, as the storm was particularly violent, and did take out quite a few of them. The rest came back with garbled readings that I was just today able to finish decoding. But what has me worried, in light of the trine's unknown activities is this-” here Red alert tapped his datapad, and pushed it towards Optimus, pointing at a specific line on the screen. “A lot of the sensors went down during the storm, but one caught this energy signature right before lightning knocked it out also.”

 

Optimus and Jazz looked at the screen, disquiet beginning to sink in their tanks, as Red Alert continued. “I almost considered it an anomaly at first, since it was brief and the sensor was shorted out right after. But it looked vaguely familiar, and near the meeting's end I compared it to known energy signatures.”

 

Worry solidified into dread when Red Alert pointed at a glyph and said “The energy matches that released with one of Skywarp's transwarp jumps.”

 

-=-=-=-

 

The last three days had been a bit of an ordeal for Prowl and Skywarp. This unusual heat had remained just as demanding, and even with a mate the breaks were few and far between. Oh, it had been enjoyable in a pleasure swamped, processor fogged kind of way, but both mechs were nearly exhausted and aching.

 

But as Skywarp moved within Prowl, both of them so close to overload, a notice popped up in Prowl's HUD. _Gestational tank full: charge diverting_. Prowl jerked and keened as all the charge racing over his plates and through his wires seemed to turn inward, until his spark felt heavy and full. Instinct, code, and just plain _want_ , had Prowl's chestplates unlocking and shifting open, spark crystal spiraling open. Skywarp's pace stuttered a moment as he lifted up to look down at Prowl. He seemed mesmerized by the sight of the bright pulsing spark beneath him. Prowl whimpered and pet Skywarp's canopy, spark already sending tendrils of energy reaching up to the other it can sense so near. Skywarp froze a moment, then opened his own chestplates, canopy sliding apart. He let his own crystal spiral open, and leaned down into Prowl's encouraging arms.

 

Their open chestplates scraped as Skywarp settled onto him, and Prowl's spark nearly lunged to merge with Skywarp's, tendrils of energy twisting and tugging at the ones rising from Skywarp's spark. Prowl cried out as their coronas brushed, then merged. Physical sensations shared between their sparks, and the doubled pleasure left both mechs gasping and arching. This pushed their sparks closer, merging deeper. Prowl tossed his head, hands clutching at Skywarp, even as he was overwhelmed by the deeper connection, the sheer bliss of joining his essence with another's one he had never felt before.

 

~You've never sparkmerged before?~ Skywarp's voice sounded surprised, but more, Prowl could _feel_ his surprise through the merge. ~Huh, thought you Autobots were more touchy-feely friendly than that.~

 

~...?..~ Puzzlement slipped into the pleasure riding Prowl, and he focused on where they joined, feeling the amusement in the other spark, and seeing fleeting memories of other merges- mostly with Skywarp's trine. ~You mean... we can see memories, thoughts?~ Dismay swept through the merge, and Prowl's spark flinched back. No matter how good this felt, how much his heat made him need this, if merging meant giving secrets or tactical advantage to a Decepticon, an enemy no matter their temporary alliance...!

 

~No, no! Wait, it's not like that.~ Skywarp coaxed Prowl back, offering up other memories as proof. Prowl cautiously let himself be convinced, and slowly moved closer, their sparks sinking into each other just a little more. The pleasure intensified as they overlapped more. ~You can control how much you share, I'm not going to learn anything you don't want, not at this level of merge anyway. We'd have to deep bond for that.~ Pleasure suddenly swelled and rippled through them, the charge that had been steadily rising coming back to the fore. Skywarp kissed Prowl, stroking their glossae together and plundering every inch of the mouth below his until only thoughts of pleasure flowed between them. ~Let's give you a taste of what you've been missing, yeah?~ Skywarp sent and pulsed his spark, the energy crashing over Prowl in exquisite waves.

 

Prowl lost himself to the ecstasy, his cries captured in Skywarp's mouth. His own spark pulsed back instinctually, and the pleasure ricocheted between them, rising higher with each volley. Higher and higher, until Prowl's pulses stuttered for a moment, the pleasure rising over him in a ravishing tide. Then it crested, and broke, until all the charge seemed to coalesce into a ball of rapture that exploded in his spark. Pleasure like he'd never felt swept through him, and Prowl broke the kiss to keen his delight to the world, Skywarp's voice joining his.

 

They lay in panting, purring bliss, moving just enough to let their chestplates close. Long moments passed in spent silence, while their armor ticked as it cooled. Skywarp finally shifted with a grunt to lie beside Prowl, their vents still blasting hot air.

 

After their frames had cooled, Skywarp stirred. Grabbing a cloth he'd left by the berthside, he wiped his interface array clean, and snapped it closed. Offering the towel to Prowl, he stared at the cave wall while Prowl wiped up and closed his own array. For the first time in days there was no drive to interface, and his mind was clear, but that also meant that now he was aware of all those nagging consequences again. He turned guarded red optics to Prowl, and raised a tentative hand to hover near Prowl's chest. “Did it work? I mean, are you...?” His voice trailed off, and his hand curled into a loose fist to drop back down to the berth.

 

Prowl's own hand rose to cover his chest, optics dimming as he accessed his systems, looking for the update. A shuddering sigh rushed from his vents, and his optics flared bright as a moment of panic hit him. Pushing his feelings down, he looked at Skywarp, optics still overly bright. “Yes. We kindled a newspark.,” he said, voice wavering almost imperceptibly.

 

Skywarp's engine gave a coughing rev, optics spiraling wide open then down to pinpricks as coding shifted and clashed with the mild shock stumbling through his mind. Sure, he knew that this was the expected result of sharing a heat, but still the news that he was a sire hit him like a punch to the tanks. Then the creator coding really kicked in, and the shock was pushed out in favor of protective urges and spark deep joy. Cooing, he raised up to on his elbow to lean over Prowl, lifting his hand again to set it lightly on Prowl's chest, field thrumming with _pride-protect-happiness_. A sliver of uncertainty slid into his teek though, as his clawed fingers settled on the red autobrand in the center of Prowl's chest. Tracing it, he looked into Prowl's icy blue optics, still a shade too bright, and asked “What do we do now? I mean, how are we going to work this out, with the sparkling?”

 

Prowl's own coding was activated, but at the moment shock and mild panic were stronger, and he stared at Skywarp uncomprehendingly for a klik. “What do you mean? There is nothing _to_ work out. You go back to the Decepticons, and I go back to the Ark,” he said, processor numb and a little blank.

 

Engine growling softly, unhappy, Skywarp poked Prowl with the tip of a claw. “I mean how are we going to keep the sparkling healthy- we're going to have to merge regularly for the first bit to give enough energy to the newspark to keep it stable.” He optics narrowed at Prowl, and his hand pressed firmer on his chestplate. “I am _not_ letting my sparkling flicker out,” he growled.

 

Prowl's optics widened, and he sputtered. “Of course not!” he yelped. “I would _never_ suggest letting the sparkling fade!” Growling at the very idea, his carrier instincts surging, Prowl's field flared with more than enough protective feelings to match Skywarp's teek. While a sparkling could be carried to term without ever sparkmerging with the sire again, the chance of reabsorption, or of the sparkling's spark being undersized and weak drastically increased. Regular merges and spark overloads helped to funnel energy into the newspark, while they orbited their carrier's spark. Not merging could be dangerous for the carrier too, if instead of being absorbed, the newspark began to draw too much on the carrier's spark.

 

Mollified, Skywarp relaxed and even nuzzled Prowl's chest a moment, before sitting up and turning to grab a cube of energon and coolant for both of them. Prowl had sat up to lean against the wall, and Skywarp handed over half the cubes as he plopped down beside him. They drank in silence for a breem, finishing their fuel lost in thought.

 

Setting his empty cubes aside, Skywarp turned to Prowl. He clicked his vocalizer, resetting it, and asked again, “So, you are the one with the processor for planning, so... what's the plan?”

 

The door swinging open interrupted whatever Prowl might have said though, and in walked Starscream and Thundercracker. “Indeed,” purred Strascream, null rays leveled at them. “What _is_ the plan?”

 

-=-=-=-

 

 


	7. Smoldering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note on something I realized-   
> My headcannon is all AU, though vaguely G1, and most of the descriptions should match that. However, there are a few *coughRatchetcough* whose appearance is definitely IDW in my head, so if I use a description that confuses you, that might be why. 
> 
> just to let you know ^_^

-=-=-=-

 

_Ah, scrap_ , Skywarp thought, and covered his anxiety with a grin up at his trinemates. “Heya, 'Screamer, TC. Whatcha doing out this way?” he said, trying to sound casual, and not succeeding. Subtly he shifted so that his wings gave Prowl more cover. He could feel Prowl also shift more behind him, until he was almost completely out of direct line of fire. Skywarp forcibly suppressed a growl at Starscream, knowing that his volatile trineleader wouldn't react well to any perceived threat. The only thing keeping Skywarp from attacking was the fact he was currently the only shelter his mate had. But he couldn't quite keep his wings from trembling with the desire to rattle, nor keep his plates from flaring in the manner all warriors learned that allowed them to look bigger and more intimidating while still clamping protectively over vital areas. His optics stayed locked on his trinemates standing over them, while part of his processor kept Prowl's position and safety in mind, feeling for him with field and wing sensors. As for Prowl, his EM field had become so still that even with the already-fading imprinting it was hard to get a teek on him.

 

“I came to find my wayward trinemate,” Starscream replied, raspy voice still dark and purring. “My possibly injured trinemate, who has been gone for half a decacycle. Who had blocked his comm and trinebond.” His voice lost it's purring edge and became harsh and hissing. “Imagine my surprise when I come to rescue him, only to find him in a cozy little nest with an Autobot. And not just any Autobot, but their Second in Command. Their _tactician_. Talking about _plans_.” The whine of the null ray rose, and the tip began to glow from the energy gathering there. “What are you and the Autobot planning Skywarp?”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! It's not like that Star! I swear, it's not what you think!” Skywarp yelped, raising his hands up shoulder height and open wide, showing them to be empty. He kept them there, submissive, optics darting between Starscream and Thundercracker. “Please, Star, listen. When you kicked me out I got bored and found a storm to fly in. While I was flying around I caught something on my sensors and went to check it out. It was a mech in heat, and I got caught in the heat fever.” He jerked his chin up, indicating the air around them, and said, “Take a sample of the air, you can definitely still detect it.”

 

Prowl, for his part, was trying to find a way out of his current predicament. His battle computer had fully activated the moment he was in the presence of enemies, bringing it's usual analytical calm. Options were already flowing, being accepted and discarded as new variables revealed themselves. Meanwhile, all attempts to send out a distress call or even just to comm anyone at all were being blocked. Keeping his hands in plain sight to hopefully appear harmless and not provoke either Seeker to shoot him, he watched them carefully from behind Skywarp. Searching the two new Seekers with sharp optics, assessing and cataloging, adding to his probabilities, he spotted a device in Starscream's left hand. Presumably, this was a signal jammer, and the reason none of his attempts to contact the Autobots were working. Perhaps he could destroy the device... His tactical suite spit out various scenarios and likely outcomes of attacking the tricolored seeker. But even though Starscream seemed completely engaged with Skywarp, his null rays never faltered, and Thundercracker kept sharp optics on them as well. Every attack plan ended up a with a eighty-two percent or higher probability that he or the newspark would end up severely damaged, even deactivated. And it was nearly impossible to judge how to factor Skywarp in. The dark Seeker was hard to predict on a good day, but right now, with conflicting loyalties it was even harder. Would he protect Prowl, and by extension the sparkling, or would the older stronger ties of trine and faction overcome whatever new creator programming there was?

 

A nudge in his spark distracted him from his doubts and circling calculations. ~Stay quiet okay? I'll try and get us out of here in one piece.~ Skywarp whispered through his spark.

 

Prowl only had time to widen his optics in shock. His processors nearly locked up from the conflict between the emotions that still flared from his heat and the active battle computer, before Starscream's outraged shriek brought the battle computer surging back to the fore and shunted the emotions aside. In front of him Skywarp flinched. Fury and hurt from betrayal smashed through Skywarp from his trinebond- strong enough that small echoes of it hit Prowl through the mate bond. Skywarp's vents stalled out from the sudden blow, and he swallowed a groan.

 

“You bonded with him!? Don't even bother to deny it, I can feel you whispering to him! What are you plotting now!?” Starscream screeched, his wings high and wide in aggression, the glow from the null ray getting brighter. His EM field lashed out, striking against the other three. Even Thundercracker's wings hiked up higher and his frown grew darker with a low growl.

 

“No! I mean, yes, but it's only a mate bond!” Skywarp babbled, reeling from the hurt in his spark, armor clamping tight in defense and losing the aggressive flare. “It was a heat, a really really strong heat! We imprinted on each other, so I had to stay with him. And we merged, yeah.” Tense and still ready to leap to his an Prowl's defense, his optics flicked from one to the other. He winced at Starscream's enraged, bright, nearly white optics before settling to look at Thundercracker beseechingly. “But there's no plotting! None, I swear. I was talking about what to do about the newspark. Look, it's just a mate bond, because he's sparked up now and I'm the sire.” He sent all the sincerity he could through the bonds to them, and even tried to back it up with his field despite it still being mostly entangled with Prowl's. “Come on, you gotta believe me.”

 

Thundercracker slowly let some of the tension leave his frame, wings lowering slightly. Stepping closer to Starscream, he gently brushed a quivering red-striped white wing with his own blue one. “There's enough heat scent in here to fry a gestalt team. I know I could sense it even from outside. And you know an intense heat increases the chances of imprinting. I think he's telling the truth, Star,” he said, sending calm down the bond.

 

Starscream shuddered, anger still whipping through him, but he leashed it enough to tame his field and cycle down some of the power in his null ray. After several kliks, he'd calmed enough his optics were no longer paled out, though they were still a much brighter red than usual. “Alright, then let's get rid of the Autobot and get out of here.”

 

“No!” Skywarp snarled with voice and engines, jumping to his peds, claws wide and ready. His armor flared fully, aggressively, and he rattled his wings in warning, only barely keeping himself from actually attacking. Prowl slowly stood up behind him. “He's _carrying my sparkling_ Starscream. You are not going to deactivate them!”

 

“Then what do you suggest we do with him?” Starscream growled back, his own wings rattling, while Thundercracker moved away again, getting a better angle on Prowl and his defensive trinemate. When Skywarp didn't say anything, Starscream sneered. “Not very good at planning when you have to rely on just your own processors are you? Very well, we'll take him to the Nemesis and dump him in the brig.”

 

“No!” Skywarp said again, though not as aggressively. His armor was still flared, but he'd stopped rattling his wings. “You know what they would do to him there. They'd kill the sparkling, and Prowl, _if_ he were lucky. I can't protect them there. It's gotta be someplace different, someplace safe Star.” When Starscream just glared at him, Skywarp crossed his arms and narrowed his optics. “Someplace better Star, or I'll just take him to the Ark, and _you_ can explain to Megatron why your trinemate is in Autobot hands.”

 

That comment made Prowl's doorwings perk up. He was about to add his vote for that, computer already working out the best negotiation strategies to convince them that the Autobots really would be the best option, when the enraged snarls from Starscream and the ominous rumbling from Thundercracker aborted that plan. For now anyway. He could bide his time, and wait until they were more willing to listen. After all, it seemed that Skywarp might be persuadable. Prowl filed that away for later and returned to keeping watch. At least Skywarp appeared to still be an ally- he was certainly protective enough of Prowl to ease some of his fears.

 

Starscream snarled again, and turned away. He began to pace in a tight circle. Thundercracker watched for a few kliks then stepped closer to Skywarp, giving Starscream more room. He kept his weapon and sensors trained on Prowl, but watched Skywarp. After looking at them for a bit, some of the tension eased out of the blue Seeker. “Are you really going to be a creator, Sky?” he asked, while Starscream grumbled to himself.

 

“Yeah, I am TC,” Skywarp answered, a faint grin on his face. “It might even end up a flier, since he's Praxian.” He looked between Prowl and Thundercracker. Prowl was quietly watching everything, face blank, doorwings neutral but forward attentively, and TC was still carefully out of reach but not being overly threatening. The lack of threat helped Skywarp to settle down more, armor smoothing down some, and a thought popped into his helm. “Hey, TC, how did you guys find me? I know I was blocking you.”

 

Thundercracker smirked. “Oh, you blocked us just fine. Until you spark merged. Guess you got a little distracted because you opened everything wide. Nearly dropped me and Star out of the air with the echoes. Made finding you pretty easy with the bond wide open- just had to follow the pull.” He snickered at the sheepish look on Skywarp's face.

 

Starscream stomped back over, and pushed past Skywarp, ignoring his bristling. He stood glaring at Prowl for a moment then huffed hot air from his vents. “Fine, I know somewhere safe to take your _mate_ ,” he sent a sidelong sneer in Skywarp's direction. “Put your hands out in front of you, Autobot.” When Prowl did so, Starscream pulled a pair of stasis-cuffs out of subspace and slapped them on his wrists. Then he dug in Prowl's subspace and emptied it of anything that could be used as a weapon or to communicate with his faction. When he pulled the acid pellet rifle out he paused, looking it over, then at Prowl speculatively. “An enforcer, were you?”

 

“Yes,” Prowl replied, voice even and cold. It was in his public file and therefore was not information that he had to guard.

 

“Interesting. Alright, Skywarp, grab your Autobot and keep him contained or I'll deal with him. Thundercracker, help me grab these boxes.” They looted the boxes and medkit, and Starscream even grabbed the datapads after looking them over. After a brief discussion, they grabbed the powerpack, cables, lights, and even some of the bedding. Subspace pockets full, they moved to stand on either side of Skywarp and his captive. “These are the coordinates,” Starscream said, plugging his wrist cable into Skywarp's wrist port, since with the jammer he couldn't use their comms. Data transmitted and confirmed, he and Thundercracker grabbed Skywarp's wings, while Skywarp held Prowl. With a burst of purple light and a _vwop_ , they were gone.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Jazz approached the cave entrance cautiously, Bumblebee at his flank. The violet evening light barely made it into the cave, the sun already setting behind the mountains, and there were no lights coming from inside. So far, all was quiet, and Jazz couldn't hear anything in the cave. No sounds of a mech moving, no ventilations, nothing, not even with his superior audio receptors. It had taken far too long to get here...

 

Right after Red Alert had told them about picking up Skywarp's signature, he'd stiffened. Then, horn sparking and optics flashing, he'd said, “I'm picking up two Cybertronian signatures headed into our territory, right towards Prowl's cave! I can't get a reading strong enough to accurately identify them, but the speed and height they are moving at says they are fliers. Sir, it has to be Starscream and Thundercracker!”

 

They'd scrambled a possible rescue party together as fast as possible, and piled into Skyfire's shuttle-alt bay. But it still took precious time to gather everyone, and even with Skyfire's impressive flight speeds, it took more than thirty minutes to get there. As the shuttle set down on a flat hill directly across from the one that hid the cave, Jazz felt a sinking in his spark. It grew worse as he and Bumblebee- with Ratchet, Optimus, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, and Hound as backup- drove closer to the cave. They would go in, investigate and/or flush out any enemies, while the rest stayed on high ground, ready to fight. Jumping down from the switchback, Bumblebee on his heels, he'd paused, sensors sweeping at full strength and relaying the info to the rest of the team. They headed into the cave with blasters in hand, lights dark, using infrared optical settings to navigate the dark without giving themselves away. Approaching the open door slowly, they eased into the cavern. Jazz flicked a hand towards the second archway, and Bumblebee moved to check the second room.

 

“Clear,” Bumblebee called, and headed back to Jazz, turning on his headlights and putting his blaster away. Jazz did the same, and swept the light over the cave floor while he commed up to the rest, letting them know the cave was empty. Bumblebee settled against a wall, and stood out of the way while Jazz looked. As he crouched to examine a scuff on the floor he heard another mech coming towards the cave door. A ping confirmed it was Hound, and he continued his perusal of the cave floor.

 

Stepping in, Hound froze, then whistled low. “Wow, no wonder Prowl had to leave, if this is what heat scent is like.” He coughed his vents, and shifted on his peds a little embarrassed. Even slightly faded and growing fainter every moment the door was open, it was more than enough to brighten his optics and send heat through his lines. Coughing again, he shook his head, then looked at Jazz where he was still crouched. “So, what do you want me to do?”

 

Standing, Jazz looked at what was left of the berth pallet, then at Hound. “I know th' heat scent is strong, but can ya pick out an'thing else under it? Maybe confirm if Skywarp or an'one else was here?”

 

“I can try,” Hound said, nodding. He closed his optics and pulled in air through his nasal olfactory vents. The arousal he felt surged a little, but he shook it off as best he could and concentrated on the underlying scents. “I can smell... heated metal and plasma, but no scorching, no processed energon. There was a weapon onlined but not fired. Definitely someone in here, I can pick out a couple different solvents and waxes. And, uh, yeah, someone was in here with Prowl for quite a while. I can pick out lotsa ozone and at least two different individual's, uh, well, you know...”

 

Sighing, Jazz nodded. “Thanks, Hound. Go on up an' let Optimus know, while Bee an' I look 'round a bit more.”

 

Hound headed back out, and Jazz continued his search of the cave. When he finished cataloging the main room, he gathered up what was left of the bedding, and put it in his subspace. Done here, he headed into the second cavern. Here, he found quite a few paint transfers and scrapes on the floor, especially by the edge of the hot spring. There was solvent and cloths there as well, some used. He gathered these up also, as evidence, to go with the bedding he'd already collected. There was even a couple spots along the walls with black and white scrapes and claw marks. Whether from fights or interfacing was hard to tell, but he found no signs of energon anywhere, nor evidence of coolant or hydraulic fluids. The dread that had been cramping his tanks since Red Alert first told them eased, but only slightly, and only to be replaced by more worry. Although it didn't look like Prowl had been harmed, that might change.

 

Sliding a hand over the back of his helm, Jazz huffed a vent, then headed over to Bee. “C'mon. Let's go report an' head back ta th' Ark.”

 

Bumblebee looked at him as they headed out of the cave. “Think Prowl's alright, Jazz?”

 

“I hope so,” Jazz replied, softly. “He's smart, and resourceful, an' c'n be a vicious fighter when he needs ta be, so yeah, I think he'll be alrigh' 'til we c'n rescue him.”

 

Bumblebee nodded. “Yeah. Heh, I almost feel sorry for the 'Cons if they took him. If the twins can't get one up on Prowl, then they've got no chance in Pit.”

 

“Ha! Ain't that true, li'l Bee,” Jazz agreed, burying his worry under false cheer. “Well, better getta move on, c'n hear Optimus's engine whinin' from here, th' worrywart.” They exited the cave and started climbing up the steep incline. “Race ya ta the top- loser hasta deal wit' Ratchet!” he called, and laughed when Bumblebee yelped and moved faster.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 

 


	8. Smoke Trails

-=-=-=-

 

Back at the Ark, the officers gathered again, with the addition of Blaster. This time the atmosphere was somber and tense. Wheeljack and Ironhide, as well as Blaster, were more than a little confused. Red Alert was down right twitchy, and Ratchet sat next to him to keep an optic on him. Jazz was still and silent in his seat, face blank, field held tight. Optimus sat next to Jazz and sighed, before calling for attention.

 

“Alright, I will get right to it,” Optimus said. “You are all aware that Prowl left for an approved leave of absence. What a few of you don't know is that the leave was granted on a medical basis. Prowl entered a mating cycle and had to go elsewhere for his own safety and that of others. Unfortunately that means he was separate and alone, and we now believe that Skywarp somehow managed to find his location. Currently Prowl is missing, presumed captured.”

 

Exclamations rang out, especially from the three who hadn't known. Ironhide in particular was loud, shouting over the others. “Why wasn't he someplace safe, if you knew about this! And what are we going to do to get him back safe?”

 

“He was someplace safe!” Red Alert yelled, gaining the others' attention. “We secured the cave! There was a blast rated door, overlapping sensors set to watch for Cybertronian signals, even a couple of defense turrets overlooking the valley set to fire if Prowl or I gave the code, or if the IFF pinged back Decepticon!”

 

“Th'n why didn't th' defenses you an' Prowl set up work?” Jazz growled.

 

“I don't _know_!” Red Alert cried, hands wringing, and sensor horn sparking. “The storm five solar cycles ago knocked out a few sensors, but not enough to create a breach. It disrupted readings enough to explain Skywarp getting through, but I can't figure out why the other Seekers got through! The sensors did pick them up, but the turrets never responded. Nothing else came back as being offline, so the turrets should have fired! I have to check the code, go over the footage from SkySpy. The only reason I can come up with is that Prowl let them-”

 

He was cut off by the angry growls and revving engines around him. Shaking his helm rapidly, hands held in front of him, Red Alert quickly clarified “Not that I think he betrayed us, or is a traitor, or anything! I mean, maybe not on purpose. But what if the heat addled his processor, or overwrote his loyalty or something?”

 

“Enough. We won't speculate until we get more information,” Optimus said, looking around and giving those that were still growling a glare and a not-so-gentle nudge with is field until they quieted. “For now, we need to work on finding out where they took Prowl.”

 

“You already had me working with Cosmos and SkySpy to find out what the Command Trine had been up to. Don't see any reason why we can't shift our focus to finding out where they are now, and see if they have Prowl with them,” Blaster said, light glinting off his visor as he looked at Optimus. The red and gold Host mech shrugged, “I mean, there's no guarantee that we'll hear anything over the airwaves, or see anything, but if we're already on the lookout then the faster we'll catch 'em.”

 

Optimus nodded. “Thank you, Blaster, that is precisely why I asked you to participate.” He turned worried optics to where Ratchet was scanning the still-sparking Security Director. ::Is Red Alert alright, Ratchet?:: he asked over private comms.

 

::He's fine, mostly. Some circuits are a little heated- he needs to calm down to let them cool off, and there may be a minor wire singed, but nothing that a little rest and self-repair can't manage.:: Ratchet replied, with a huff.

 

::Good:: Optimus sent glad one worry was alleviated, then aloud asked, “Ratchet, should we be worried for Prowl's health, aside from the usual, in light of his heat?”

 

“I don't know, Optimus,” Ratchet sighed, hot air from his vents fogging the screen of the scanner for a moment. He stared at the scanner for a klik, then gave up on using it as an excuse to avoid the questions and subspaced it. “I ran a preliminary analysis on what Jazz brought back, and it supports the fact Prowl spent his heat with someone. I still need to run a comparison through Teletraan, see if it matches up with the CNA code for Skywarp. But as there was no evidence of spilled energon, missing plates, or other wounds, I think it is safe to assume Prowl is in good shape still. If it was Skywarp that he... completed his heat with, then he might actually be fairly safe. Before the war, Seekers were notorious for being overly possessive and protective with mates, even temporary ones. Their creator coding is very strong, also. If Prowl was taken someplace secret off base, then my biggest fear is that he will need more energon, additives, and medical aid- should something go wrong- than they can provide. But if they took him to the Decepticon base, then Prowl could be in extreme danger. Not even Skywarp can keep him safe from harm, if Megatron were to order it.”

 

“If Megatron has 'im, I think we'll know real soon,” Jazz said, then disdainfully adding “Ol' Megs can't keep from gloatin' if his spark were on th' line, and we'd be hearin' 'bout it if Prowl's there.” He turned a wry smirk in Optimus' direction. “ 'Course, we c'n find out extra fast if ya let me an' Mirage head down ta the Nemesis. We c'n see what th' scuttlebutt says, ev'n spy on ol' Screamer an' his trine, see if they say an'thing that might lead us to Prowl. Bee an' Hound c'n handle morale an' any battle recon 'til we get back.”

 

Reluctant, but knowing the risk was worth it, Optimus nodded. “Permission for the recon and intel mission granted. I want you to be extra careful- information only. No sabotage unless it is required. I am trying to get my SIC back, I don't need to lose my TIC as well.”

 

Jazz' smirk bloomed into a full out grin. “Aw, I knew ya cared. Trust me, Optimus, I know what I'm doin'.”

 

Optimus shook his helm, field poking Jazz' with rueful humor, then looked around at the others. “I have already ordered Hound, Bumblebee, and the twins to keep quiet about this. I want you to be circumspect about it as long as possible. If Prowl isn't on the Nemesis, and if Megatron isn't aware of his absence, the longer we can keep it from him the better. For now, we'll say Prowl has extended his leave due to unforeseen circumstances, and will be back soon. If you find out anything helpful or suspicious, keep the rest of us informed. Dismissed.”

 

Wheeljack came around the table as the rest of them filed out, and put a hand on Red Alert's shoulder. “Let me help you go over the code and the specs for the sensors and the turrets? I'll bring them back here and examine them. I might be able to figure out why they malfunctioned, and didn't work like they should have.”

 

Teeking gratitude and worry in equal measure, Red Alert nodded. “Thank you, Wheeljack. I need to know why my defenses didn't work, and how to counteract it.” He lowered his optics, and added quietly, “I want to know why I couldn't keep my friend safe.”

 

Wheeljack said nothing, just squeezed his shoulder again, and offered what comfort and support he could through his field as they left the conference room.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Prowl looked about the room he was being kept in. It was of human construction, a warehouse or factory of some kind perhaps. It was more than tall enough to stand in, soaring several floors overhead, with large clerestory windows providing what light could make it past the clouds. Empty and in disrepair, it was obviously abandoned. Chains leading to a collar around Prowl's neck prevented him from looking out of the windows, but he could hear birds, and wind rustling through trees. Even with his sensors on the highest settings, using his doorwings to amplify any readings, Prowl couldn't hear anything but wildlife, suggesting that Skywarp had taken him somewhere remote.

 

Walking back to the enormous berth set in the center of the room, chain dragging and clanking behind him, Prowl sat down on it. He'd already tried to break the chain, but it was Cybertonian alloys, not Earth made, and too strong for him. The collar itself had no outward signs of the lock, all of it tucked inside, and apparently only activated with a set signal. Contemplating where the chain was connected to the berth, he considered attempting to move or destroy the berth. A few experimental pushes and bangs made it clear that was not likely. Possible perhaps, if he had time and energy, but extremely difficult. Especially with no tools, and unable to reach anything in the room that he could turn into one. The berth was Cybertonian as well, probably salvaged from an empty room on the Nemesis or picked up during a scavenging mission on Cybertron. It's base appeared to be actually set in the concrete floor, and bolted as well.

 

Aside from the berth, there wasn't much. A few consoles along one wall, out of his reach with the chain. A beat up solar energy converter, which if it was working, could provide energon, or be used as a generator. A shelving unit with metal patches, spare parts, and an old medkit. A couple of engineering projects he couldn't identify. In one corner there looked to be some kind of makeshift washrack, with a shower head over a floor drain, and a pile of solvent bottles against the wall. A large door had been placed in one wall, opposite the washrack, large enough for a mech to walk through. The berth was the only thing one could consider luxurious in the room- wide enough for all three Seekers to use, thick padding, and soft covers. Apart from the chains it was quite nice, and Prowl guessed this was a secret hideout for the trine, possibly a refuge.

 

There really wasn't much for Prowl to do, most of it all out of his reach anyway. He couldn't even use the solar energy converter to make energon, although his captors had been thoughtful enough to leave a handful of cubes in the built-in cubby on the berth's headboard. Starscream had only left a few though, and Prowl really hoped that they would come back with more soon, even as he dreaded what else they might bring, or do.

 

Escape on his own looked unlikely, and all the scenarios his battle computer and tac-net were spitting out had such low probabilities that Prowl shunted those processing-threads aside. Setting the battle computer to background functions working out the likelihood of the Autobots finding him instead, Prowl sighed. Pushing it to the background meant letting more of his emotions out, which he didn't need right now, but sometimes the all-logic-driven programs masked leaps of intuition and improbability. It also kept him from trying all avenues of escape, because trying something he knew wouldn't work would be illogical. Such as this- he opened an emergency comm-line to the Autobots, but heard only static. Ah well, it never hurt to try. He couldn't contact anyone for help, since Starscream had affixed the signal jammer to the underside of one of the exposed beams of the roof, far out of Prowl's reach with the chain. Without it, he might have been able to climb up and disable it. He might not be quite as flexible as Jazz, but he was agile enough.

 

Thought of Jazz lead to thoughts of their last encounter, which lead to thoughts of his heat, lead to thoughts of _why_ he was here... Hugging his knees to his chest as he sat on the huge berth, Prowl keened his distress. Alone, and having finally exhausted what limited distractions his new confines offered, Prowl's processor had finally caught up. Something close to a panicky despair flowed through him, making his field crackle and flare. Here he was in the very situation he had tried so hard to avoid! Worse, even, as it wasn't even a member of his own faction that had sparked him up. Prowl felt it all flow over him, the helplessness and uncertainty, sobs and keens escaping his huddled form.

 

It didn't take long though for Prowl's practical nature to reassert itself, and the crying tapered off. Resting his forehelm on his knees, Prowl ex-vented hard, getting his hiccuping ventilations back under control. There were sure to be other moments when he broke down under the strain of the situation, but for now his emotions were mostly back under control as well.

 

Alright, so now he needed to decide what his options are. Reengaging and redirecting the battle computer, he set it to working out the best course of action to consider concerning the sparkling. While not precisely what it was best at, it could still crunch all the options and most likely outcomes long before Prowl could muddle through them on his own.

 

Prowl stretched out and lay back on the soft berth while the calculations ran. Letting the rest of his processors start up a sectional defrag, he let his mind go pleasantly blank while he waited. While partitioning allowed him to defrag and order sections of his processors at a time without recharging- letting him keep a clear mind even if deprived- it wasn't as effective or restorative as recharge. Useful, in that it let him function for long periods, a trait he had used many times in this war, but not without it's own problems. Mostly, a higher need for energon, or a long period of downtime later to fully recharge and let overworked systems rest. Having just finished a heat that had already stressed his systems and shorted him on recharge wasn't exactly the best time to do this, but he needed to organize, file, and tag all the jumbled up information from the last decacycle and more, and he wasn't ready yet to give into the vulnerability of recharge.

 

Nearly a groon later he got a ping telling him the calculations were done. Opening the results, Prowl sighed in spark deep relief he was surprised to feel. First item in the report was a strong recommendation _against_ termination of the newspark. Until this moment, Prowl hadn't realized that- despite the unfortunate timing and sire- he wanted this sparkling. Oh, there was strut deep fear, the vast unknown of raising a sparkling and keeping it alive and safe in the middle of a war. Not to mention the reactions of the mechs around them. Prowl wasn't sure a cross-faction sparkling would ever be truly accepted by some. But the relief and the desire were real too. It wasn't all just creator programing either. He'd always wanted a sparkling, eventually. The war had just happened to break out right about the time he had been settled enough in his career as an enforcer to consider it. Then came the destruction of Praxus, raising the devastated Bluestreak, working his way up the Autobot ranks...

 

The report's reasons for keeping the sparkling were much more practical than spark longing and creator coding, of course. Termination was highly risky without proper medical help since it could damage a spark, and even then there was a small chance the breaking and rebounding of the sparkling's bond could cause the carrier to deactivate. Prowl had never been comfortable with the idea of doing that anyway. He knew, and accepted, that sometimes it was needed to be done for the physical or mental health of the carrier. In his spark though, it was never an option personally. Perhaps, if it were truly _truly_ necessary to survive, he could allow the battle computer to take over long enough to allow such a procedure. But it would always be a wound on his spark. On top of that, Prowl's situation was predicated upon the fact Skywarp wanted him alive and healthy to have the sparkling. If he were to harm the sparkling in any way, it would likely enrage the Seeker. An angry Seeker meant injury, death, or being taken to Megatron and put in his merciless clutches.

 

Oh, there were risks aplenty to keeping the sparkling, but they were less immediate than the dangers of getting rid of it. The most pertinent ones were not getting enough energon should something happen to the trine. If he didn't escape, or no one found him, should the trine be injured or deactivated he might be stuck here with no fuel. The other possibility was being discovered by other Decepticons. If the trine couldn't keep quiet, or it was revealed they had him for some reason, then he would probably end up taken and tortured under Megatron's orders. But even if Megatron never found out, and if he should be rescued, then there was still the dangers of carrying itself. A miscarriage, or one of the rarer malformation, or complications with frame construction, or lack of needed supplements weakening his protoform too much, or.... Well, there were just many things, however unlikely, that could happen.

 

Which made his best course of action the one he'd already determined to try- Prowl was going to cooperate with Skywarp, all the while working to convince the fellow creator that the best thing for him and the sparkling was taking him back to the Autobots and Ratchet. Ratchet, a medic who was better supplied and experienced with caring for carriers and sparklings than Hook, or any of the other Decepticon medics. He would appeal to Skywarp for the sparkling's safety. Even the Seeker had to admit that the attitude and inclinations of the Decepticons made it an unhealthy and unsafe environment for a sparkling.

 

Emotions settled for now, and plan chosen, Prowl set his processors to working out the best arguments to get Skywarp on his side. It might mean being a little more … accommodating towards Skywarp than he was comfortable with, now that he was no longer being driven by his heat. That was in addition to the sparkmerges needed for the sparkling. But Prowl had spent an entire war doing things he wasn't thrilled with, and if he could get under the jet's plating, figuratively or literally, it might be easier to sway the more emotional mech when it came time.

 

-=-=-=-

 


	9. Looking for Embers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this out just a teeny bit later than I intended. Writing has been slow, but never fear, updates shall remain weekly. ^_^

-=-=-=-

 

 

Jazz and Mirage were well on their way towards the Nemesis within two joor of the officer meeting. A quick Special Operations confab to hash out the actual plan of sneak-attack after the meeting ended, grabbing the needed supplies, rechecking strategies and orders, then they were gone. They drove towards the coast fast as possible. While it may have been faster to hitch a ride with Skyfire, or on a human transport, that would have attracted too much interest. Starscream inevitably tried to find out everything Skyfire did, and Soundwave monitored all the Autobot-human communications.

 

They drove fast but careful, Mirage cloaked so as not to garner too much attention from authorities. His bright blue and white racecar alt was definitely not street legal. Jazz himself had done a quick temporary repaint, choosing black and purple, to help avoid recognition as they traveled.

 

Once at the coast the tricky part started. Navigating in water was tiresome, as the dark and murkiness meant using sensors and sonar, and setting their optics for infrared rather than the usual spectrum. Even then, their optics weren't much help. They also had to watch their systems closely, to avoid damage from the pressure and the temperature. While the salt water itself wouldn't hurt their systems as long as it didn't get into an energon line, it certainly wasn't comfortable. They could even safely take it into their vents, to cycle like they would air to help cool their frames. Then the risk was actually becoming too cold, as water was a much more efficient heat conductor, and the water much colder than the warm late summer day's air. To counter that, Jazz and Mirage took in water, then sealed their vents. Keeping the same water meant it would stay relatively warm, as their systems heated it up. It also helped keep their systems cleaner by recycling the same already-filtered water.

 

::Ugh, I _hate_ cycling water. All the air contaminants on this dirtball are bad enough, but that is nothing compared to what this does to my filters!:: Mirage complained in his fine haughty tones over their heavily encrypted comm-line as they submerged.

 

Jazz snickered back ::At least Hound will help ya scrub 'em out when we get back. An' happily tell ya wha' all the critters are tha' got caught in 'em.:: he said, grinning at Mirage through the water.

 

Mirage's optics flared, and his armor clamped. He shuddered, the clanking of his plates echoing through the water. ::Oh, _Primus_ , don't remind me!:: he groaned down the comm. ::Just thinking about it makes me feel like I might purge. It's bad enough with all of it out there, but to think of it _in my systems_ \--!:: The comm cut off for a moment, and Mirage actually stopped walking along the sea floor, optics shuttered and lips pressed tight together. Jazz stopped beside him and pinged him, concerned. An 'all's well' pinged back, and Mirage started moving again. ::Sorry. I'm fine. I don't know how Hound, dear mech that he might be, can stand to wallow in all this organic... matter. But as long as you don't remind me-:: here he cut Jazz a narrow opticed glare ::- _again_ , I will manage.::

 

An unrepentant grin was his answer, but Jazz did refrain from mentioning it. Most of the rest of their underwater journey was quiet, especially as they got closer to the Decepticon's ship. Water allowed easier teeking, EM fields flowing farther and clearer. Using this and hand signals made communicating without comms easy. An advantage they were glad for, as any comm chatter added to the probability of Soundwave or sensors picking up on their approach. The rest of their mission would be silent, black out comms, with only regular short pings to update status.

 

They reached the Nemesis nearly a solar cycle from the beginning of their underwater trek. Almost two solar cycles from the moment they confirmed Prowl missing. The passing time chafed at Jazz, but he knew that rushing would gain nothing. Picking their way carefully through the blind spots in the Nemesis' sensor grid- some of them manufactured by the Autobot Spec Ops using rocks, sabotage, and small jammers from previous trips, others caused by sea life and poor maintenance- and reached the hull of the submerged ship. A long rend in the hull near the stern on the port side was just wide enough for the two spies to slip in. The room they entered was completely filled with water and sealed off, door welded shut from outside- but the vents in the ceiling had been refitted by Jazz during the last mission. They now had a small antechamber/airlock, allowing the Autobots to crawl up into the tiny room, and seal it before opening the next sealed door and crawling into the vents proper. Jazz had almost been caught that time; the massive amounts of water released during his renovations had caused a sweep of the area, looking for the leak. This new little airlock kept telltale water to a minimum. Not that leaks were anything new to the Nemesis. The ship was not handling the pressure nor the unstable ground of the ocean well at all.

 

With just a couple of exchanged hand signs, the pair split up. Mirage was headed to the commissary and rec rooms, where he could listen in while cloaked. His job was mainly to listen to the rumors and gossip of the crew this time around. Standing still and invisible, the blue mech could basically stay in one spot undetectable and gather intel until it was time to leave. Unless there was an emergency, their only contact would be status pings at predesignated random intervals.

 

Jazz, on the other hand, was going to follow the command staff. Starscream and his trine in particular. Although he'd be Megatron's invisible shadow for long enough to determine if he knew about Prowl's capture before leaving, no matter what he overheard from the trine.

 

Twisting and climbing through the air vents and ducts and service conduits was no easy task. Damage and patchwork repairs made some areas too unstable to travel through. The sturdy sections were sometimes connected only by traversing a whole different deck and then backtracking. Also Soundwave, being no fool, set up various detectors and sensors along the most likely routes. His cassettes patrolled the ducts as well, Ravage in particular. That little mech was a hard one to evade, with his advantage of enhanced hearing and smelling. And the cramped tunnels worked in the cougaraider's favor. Jazz had nearly lost an audial horn and got a cracked visor and slashed faceplate from Ravage's claws a stellar cycle ago during an almost-botched mission.

 

Scanning with sensors and various visor settings- checking for frequencies, signals, and heat put off by detectors, Jazz cautiously worked his way towards the officer quarters. Keeping a sharp lookout for Ravage, he meticulously marked all the new detector locations, and hacked a few that were impossible to get around. Making them register his presence and field as a non-entity, pest, or a sensor ghost, or changing them so that they failed to register his field frequency at all. Updating the map in his files and adjusting the layout on his HUD as he went, Jazz finally arrived at his listening post. It took longer than he had expected, as a previously direct path had been blocked by construction. Careful probes with sensors and a thorough investigation of the new route actually revealed it to be something of a bonus- the new route may be more circuitous but had many more branches, connections, and dead ends. Oh, this would be fun. New plans sprouted in Jazz's helm, making use of all the new pathways. This would be much easier to defend or escape as needed. This section of vents carried sounds well, and a listening device or two embedded might catch a juicy tidbit or three, especially as they went over the officer's quarters. Add in a few traps and maybe a bomb or two... Hm, Optimus probably wouldn't like that, and he did say intel recon only... But what Optimus doesn't know can't hurt him.

 

Jazz grinned, already digging in his subspace for tools, when he heard a yelp. Pausing, and orienting himself based on his map and the direction the sound came from, he quietly crawled over to peer down into Starscream's berthroom. The grate opening limited his view, but Jazz could see Starscream, blue hand bright against the black wingtip he tightly gripped.

 

“I said no, Skywarp,” the white and red Seeker hissed. “You are going nowhere for at least the next solar cycle.”

 

“But I need to go and-” Skywarp began, but was cut off by a yank to his wing, and a furious engine growl.

 

“No! I don't care what you think you need to do. If I find out you have left this base even a breem earlier than I allow you, I will personally slap an inhibitor on your warpdrive and throw you in the brig for a decacycle!” The roar of an angry turbine accompanied the words. Starscream's blue hand clamped down even harder on the wingtip, servos whining, and beginning to dent black plating.

 

Skywarp whimpered. “Alright! Alright Star, I won't go until you say!”

 

“Good,” Starscream sneered, then released the abused wing. “You caused me enough trouble with this already. I should repay you for the beating your insubordination caused me. Megatron was supremely unimpressed with your absence, and I'm the one who paid for it!”

 

Starscream stomped away, a chastised Skywarp muttering “Sorry Screamer” as he left. A sigh drifted through the room, and the bit of black wing Jazz could see drooped. More ped-steps, and then bright blue wings edged into view.

 

“He is right you know. He got punished because of you,” Thundercracker rumbled.

 

“I know, TC. But I couldn't help it! I really was stuck, it wasn't just an excuse!” A sharp engine whine underscored the plea in voice and field for understanding.

 

Thundercracker huffed air through his vents, wings rising and falling. “I know, Warp. And so does Star. But it's going to take him a while to forgive you, especially with the new complications you've brought us.”

 

“Yeah. Okay.” Skywarp grumbled. The wingtip moved out of view, and ped-steps headed towards the door. They paused, there was a moment of silence, then he asked, “Do you think he meant one solar cycle from now, or one solar cycle from the end of my shift?”

 

Following after his trinemate, Thundercracker's voice was amused and exasperated in equal measures when he replied, “Unless you want to get slagged, you had better make it to both shifts.” The door sliding shut with a click cut off whatever else they might have said.

 

Hm, now wasn't that interesting? Jazz sat back, keeping sensors and an audial tuned to warn him of anything while he processed what he had just heard. While the Seekers had never actually stated what, or who, they were talking about, it wasn't much of a leap for Jazz to assume they meant Skywarp spending the heat with Prowl. Now the question was how to confirm it, and find out where it is Skywarp wants to go so badly. Not to mention making sure Megatron doesn't catch wind of anything the Autobot's would rather he didn't know.

 

With that in mind, Jazz set up listening devices- one here, to catch anything he might miss while skulking about, and another near Skywarp's berthroom- then began snaking his way through the vents to spy on the Decepticon leader. It was time to see if Megatron knew what was happening.

 

-=-=-=-

 

It was pretty clear even within a couple joors that Megatron was completely unaware of the situation, and that the Seekers were working hard to keep it that way. That fact alone was interesting enough to grab Jazz' attention. It brought in all kinds of questions and speculation- did Starscream have an ulterior motive, was he keeping Prowl secret as leverage? Was the heat fruitful, and was a sparkling on the way, and if there was, what was the trine planning to do about it? For that matter, was the trine working together, or were they more divided than they looked?

 

The only way to get answers was to continue watching, and not get caught. A notice popped up in Jazz's HUD, informing him it was time yet again to let Mirage know he was still fine. Jazz and Mirage exchanged their pings, each saying 'all clear' and 'info gathered' embedded in the short burst. Ensconced in the ceiling above the main control room aka Megatron's throne room, Jazz watched the Decepticon officers. Megatron seemed pleased with his troops, Soundwave in particular, after their successful raid. The abundance of energon stolen in the last raid had certainly raised morale for the entire faction. Except perhaps Starscream, who was sullen and antagonistic towards everyone, but mostly Megatron- still sore from the beating he had been given despite being repaired.

 

While he kept close watch on all of them, it was the black and violet Seeker sitting at one of the computer consoles and keeping up with reports that drew Jazz' optics again and again. Not just his optics, either. Soundwave's helm turned towards the fidgety Seeker several times during the shift, red visor tracking the twitches and fluttering of Skywarp's wings. Soundwave's interest sharpened Jazz' own. Was it the movement, or was the telepath picking up something?

 

When the shift ended a few groons later, Jazz opted to follow Soundwave rather than Skywarp. It was riskier and trickier to stay near the telepath and his little crew, but Jazz wanted to be sure the Host wasn't turning too much attention towards Skywarp and his activities. Following him to his quarters via the vents, Jazz observed Soundwave. The Host merely went about his routine, doing minor maintenance and touch-ups on himself and his cassettes before settling in to read a datapad. Rumble and Frenzy wandered off, presumably to the rec room, while the rest nestled in on or around Soundwave. A groon of that, and Jazz felt confident that for now he could leave- the boxy navy blue mech looked to be going no where for a while. Time to track down that pain-in-the-tailpipe glitchin' Seeker.

 

Jazz picked his way back to the trine's quarters, checking his traps and recorders along the way making sure they hadn't been discovered or tampered with. Satisfied that he was safe for the moment, and situated where he could hear if any of the trine returned to their quarters, Jazz dug a cube out of subspace and fueled up. Another scheduled ping to Mirage, and now he just had to wait. Propped up on an elbow and laying against a wall in the narrow confines of the tunnel, Jazz sipped at his cube and started a defrag. Like Prowl, he and Mirage, as well as the rest of Spec Ops team and most of the other officers, could partition and defrag sections of their processors. It certainly came in handy during missions where it wasn't safe to hole up and recharge, and they were here for a week, plus travel. The medics used a different, more efficient method, that came part and parcel with their medical upgrades and programming. They still crashed at the end, needing actual recharge, just not as hard. Jazz spent a moment pondering the differences, before setting the thought aside. He had a couple of moments quiet, but he still needed to be alert.

 

Not long after Jazz had gotten comfortable, Skywarp trudged back to his room. Carrying a half dozen cubes of energon, the Seeker fumbled with the lock pad of his door, juggling the cubes as he punched in his code. The beeping of the pad and Skywarp's grumbling alerted Jazz to his return. Audials set to their highest gain to catch what the Seeker muttered to himself, Jazz carefully maneuvered through the duct that lead to a grate in the ceiling of Skywarp's quarters, following him.

 

Looking through the grate, Jazz watched Skywarp stash the cubes in a hidden compartment in the wall above his berth, leaving one out for himself. Flopping down to sprawl half sitting up on the berth, the black Seeker drank the glowing pink fuel. Jazz watched the mech make faces, and huff, and grumble, but whatever conversation he was having was over internal comms or a bond, or even just in his processor. Skywarp finished his cube, then shuffled down the berth. Flopping over on his front, he wriggled until he was comfortable, then shuttered his optics.

 

When it became apparent that Skywarp was actually getting ready to recharge, Jazz decided it was time to look in on the other two Seekers again. If they didn't have any new info, then Jazz might have to try sneaking into their rooms to access a computer.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Starscream huffed air out his vents as he sat working at the trine's personal computer terminal. The small common room connected to each of their berthrooms, although Starscream's berthroom was the only one with a private washrack. The common room was big enough for the desk and computer, a couch, and one chair, but that was about it. It was even more crowded seeming because the seating had been squished close together to leave a clear path for Starscream's habit of pacing- something his trinemates had learned long ago not to tease him about and to just accept and accommodate.

 

Starscream sat back, frustrated. Stretching his arms and wings, he stood up. Then he flopped onto the couch with a dramatic flourish, trying to expel some of his frustration through the motion. Not that it ever worked for that, but it did draw attention, which the Seeker often used to his advantage. The fact that he didn't have an audience right now was no reason not to keep in practice. Thundercracker was on his shift, doing monitor duty in the control room, and Skywarp was recharging. Starscream scowled at that thought. He really didn't want to deal with Skywarp right now anyway, nor all the trouble he'd managed to drag them into this time. Draping an arm over his optics, Starscream growled lowly. This was a mess he really didn't want to deal with! But the combination of trinebond, creation coding, and his mates' reactions meant he was stuck with it.

 

He'd known the moment Skywarp merged with the Autobot that any hope of just disposing of the problem and fetching Skywarp was not going to happen. Although, _Primus_ , he'd wanted to. Well, wanted to until trine coding had backed up the protectiveness Skywarp had been broadcasting to them, and latched onto the Praxian as a carrier-mate for the trine. That had activated his own trine-creator coding, and firmly put Prowl into the protect/guard/kin file in his processor. Then he'd been fighting his _own_ coding as much as Skywarp's. Plus Thundercracker's- that mech was always fond of sparklings and Starscream had felt TC softening over their bond. Even suggesting putting the carrier in danger had made the trine-creator protocols flare. After all, when one trine member sparked, the whole trine came together as creators and helped build the sparkling's frame- either by helping supply minerals and supplements or the old fashioned way by donating transfluid.

 

That was the way it had worked in Vos, anyway. At least when they got there the heat scent had already changed to reflect that the Praxian was sparked and needed merges, not more interfacing. Which was a good thing, as they certainly didn't need to add brawling over the Autobot to this mess, on top of everything else. What scent was left had made all of them territorial and aggressive enough as it was.

 

It had been hard to rein in instinct and keep his weapons on his trinemate and the Autobot. That internal conflict, plus the anger from that initial perceived betrayal, had made it difficult for Starscream to control himself. It didn't help he was still aching from Megatron, and angry at Skywarp and the Praxian because of that. Even with that anger, fighting the protocols enough to turn a weapon on the new carrier made his programing itch, and his efforts at doing so weren't helped any by the fact he genuinely admired the black and white mech; Prowl was a worthy adversary, brilliant and tough. As SIC and Autobot Tactician, he was even of comparable rank to Starscream, who was also SIC and Winglord. Pits, if they weren't at war, he and his trine might even have negotiated for a creation with the Praxian, just to create alliances and to hopefully get a flier sparkling. There were few enough fliers left after all...

 

But that was not the case, and the war most definitely was not over. Instead, now Starscream had to protect an enemy who was carrying his trine's sparkling, all the while keeping it from both his leader and the other faction's leader.

 

At least the refuge had already been set up, and they hadn't had to stash the blasted Autobot anywhere temporarily while finding a more secure hiding spot. If he'd had to deal with that helm-ache he might just have shot the Praxian, and Skywarp for good measure, and had done with it. Coding twinged at that thought, and Starscream snarled. Flinging himself off the couch, he circled around and began to pace furiously behind it. Bad enough that he was still sore and healing from Megatron's beating, but now he had to deal with pinches from his _own code_! And that was Skywarp's fault too!

 

At least he could punish his errant trinemate by keeping him here. Not like the carrier needed him yet anyway. So he might go one solar cycle without energon- Skywarp would take him some more tomorrow. And there was no danger to the newspark yet, it hadn't even been half an orn since kindling. Merges were only required once or twice an orn, after all, for the first two decacycles. In Earth time, that meant about once a week for about forty weeks, the first third or so of the carry.

 

Starscream stopped pacing, and sighed. Primus, how were they going to manage this for two decacycles? At _least_. If they got caught all four of them were in danger, no, five counting the sparkling. Then they had to worry about supplying the carrier with the material needed for when frame construction began. Thank Primus that could be handled with supplements, most of which were fairly easy to obtain on this mudball. As much as he'd enjoy donating and influencing the sparkling's frame with the coding carried in his nanites, he doubted that would be an option. The Praxian was unlikely to allow it, and there was no appeal in taking a mate who wasn't willing.

 

For now, Starscream had to tread carefully. He needed to help his short-screwed aft-headed trinemate take care of his mate and sparkling, all without arousing suspicion. And find an even more suitable punishment for the pain he'd caused Starscream.

 

-=-=-=-

 


	10. Adding Tinder

-=-=-=-

 

Skywarp could barely sit still through his shift. Monitor duty in the security room sucked slag anyway- all it was good for was boring a mech to component pieces, and counting the fish that swam by on the screens. Tonight he had to visit Prowl. He was anxious because Starscream had only left enough energon for two solar cycles, and Prowl had to have run out yesterday. Skywarp was worried about his bitlet, and vowed he'd make sure he took enough energon this time to last a whole week, just in case he couldn't get away. Maybe he could get Starscream to finally fix that old solar energy converter, so Prowl wouldn't have to worry? Skywarp bet he could get TC to help him talk Starscream into it. TC always did have a soft spot for carriers and sparklings- it had given him lots of trouble over the vorns of war, before he learned to bury it.

 

His chronometer finally ticked over, signaling the ending of his shift, and Skywarp practically ran out of the monitor room. He didn't even bother to wait to be relieved, not that he usually did anyway. Well, sometimes he did, when TC complained at him about responsibilities and all that scrap. Skywarp would feel more guilty about it if his replacements ever showed up on time.

 

Skywarp burst into the common room of their quarters, and checked to see if his trine were there yet. Starscream's room was locked, and even though Skywarp could just pop in, the rule was he didn't do that unless it was an emergency or he wanted to be slagged to Pit and back. Better just check on TC, anyway. Starscream had promised to cover for them, giving him and TC an excuse to get out of the base. Skywarp palmed the pad by Thundercracker's door. It opened to reveal the blue Seeker reading a datapad while sitting propped against the head of his berth. One look at the over-excited black mech in his doorway had Thundercracker sighing and setting his datapad aside.

 

Bouncing into the room, field bright with anticipation, Skywarp pounced on Thundercracker, ignoring his half-startled rev. “Hey, TC, you're gonna go flying with me, right? As soon as Starscream gives me the permission?” Skywarp asked, turning big trubopuppy optics up at Thundercracker from where he was sprawled across his lap.

 

Palming Skywarp's faceplates suddenly, Thundercracker pushed the obnoxious mech off the berth. Skywarp went over with a clatter of plates and a surprised squawk. Stepping over the black and purple pile of Seeker now aft over helm on his floor, Thundercracker snorted, amusement ripe in his field. Skywarp's indignant teek just made him let out a low rumbly chuckle. “I said I would go with you today, and I meant it. But not until Starscream clears it.”

 

Getting his peds back under him, Skywarp scrambled up after Thundercracker, crowding close to him.“Where is Screamer? His berthroom is locked, is he in there? Maybe I better comm him-” Skywarp's rambling was cut off when Thundercracker turned around and clamped a hand on Skywarp's shoulder vent.

 

“Star's in an officer meeting, and unless you really _do_ want him to stuff you in the brig for a decacycle, then you'd better not bother him.” Easing his grip, Thundercracker brought his other hand up to cup Skywarp's helm, thumb rubbing soothingly over a cheekvent. “I know you are worried, but it won't be much longer. The meeting should end very soon. They've been at it for almost two groon already.”

 

Skywarp sighed, and hugged Thundercracker, letting the patience and understanding in his trinemate's field soothe the pulling need to go to his carrier-mate. They were still embraced, Thundercracker murmuring quietly and petting Skywarp, when the habsuite's door opened and a fuming Starscream walked in.

 

“Change of plans. We're all three getting out of this Pit-forsaken waterlogged piece of scrap metal, and doing a recon flight,” Starscream rasped, voice even rougher than usual. From the denting on his neck cabling and throat panel it was clear why. Obviously their illustrious leader had not been pleased with something Starscream said.

 

Skywarp opened his mouth, but a sharp pulse of Starscream's field and a slashing motion of his hand cut off the protests that Skywarp began. Over their trinebond Starscream elaborated, ~Shut it off. You are still going to the Autobot. You will just have to make it quick. Thundercracker and I will fly the route, and you will join us when you're done.~ Continuing out loud, Starscream sneered, “Get what you need and join me at the lift. If you are not there in a breem I will personally bend your ailerons until all you're capable of is flying in circles.” He finished on a mumble as he walked back out of the habsuite, “I swear sometimes that's all you're good for anyway.”

 

Thundercracker and Skywarp looked at each other, then broke their embrace. Thundercracker shrugged and headed out the door after their trineleader, hoping to calm him down some before Skywarp got there. Skywarp hurried into his berthroom, popped the wall panel off the secret compartment and grabbed all the energon stuffed in there. He placed it in his subspace, the put the panel back in place. Hurrying after his trine, Skywarp couldn't help the flickers of _happy-anticipation-nervous_ in his field.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Prowl lay curled on his side on the berth, dozing. He'd spent the day in Safe Mode, with systems powered down to minimum, to conserve energy after drinking the last cube of energon. Since he didn't know when more fuel would come, logic dictated this was the best bet for self-preservation and that of his newspark. At least he got all the recharge he needed in the four quiet days since his capture.

 

He was startled out of his wandering thoughts by the distinctive _vwop_ sound of air and space-time bending around a transwarp. Powering up his optics, Prowl turned his helm towards the door just as Skywarp pushed it open. When he saw Prowl just laying there he hurried over, field pulsing worry. A light brush over his spark startled Prowl, and he pulled away from it while he stared at the approaching Seeker.

 

“Hey, you alright? How's the sparkling?” Skywarp questioned as he knelt next to the berth.

 

Powering up the rest of the way, Prowl sat up. “We are both fine. I was merely conserving energy, as I ran out of energon yesterday,” Prowl replied, voice smooth and cool. “I hope you came because you have brought more?” he hinted, with a raised brow ridge.

 

“Uh, right,” was Skywarp's somewhat confused reply, as he dug around in his subspace and pulled out the cubes he'd brought. Putting them into the headboard's cubby, he had to reach around the other mech, their plates nearly brushing. Sending his field out questioningly, he was met with stillness and neutral disinterest. Prowl's frame reflected his field, neither shying away nor leaning closer to Skywarp. Sharp icy blue optics watched him, attentive and alert, but not welcoming. It was such a change from their last encounter that Skywarp felt oddly off balance and uncertain. Giving a nervous vent cough, he stood up, taking a step back from the berth and the black and white mech sitting there.

 

“Uh, is there anything else you need? I can't stay long, but I thought maybe... it would be a good idea to strengthen the bitlet?” Skywarp felt hesitant to suggest a merge to this quiet mech, so different from the warm, nuzzling, needy one he met during the heat. Clicking his vocalizer to clear the nervous static in it, he continued, “I mean, I'm not sure when I can come next, and I know it's important to give the sparkling a lot of energy in the first few orns...” His voice trailed off under the scrutiny of those cool blue optics.

 

After a few kliks those optics warmed slightly, and Prowl nodded. “Yes, I think that would be best,” he acknowledged. Reminding himself of his plan, and that this was for the sparkling, Prowl leaned back onto the berth, and raised his arms towards Skywarp. When the Seeker hesitated still, Prowl brushed his field against the jet's softly, filling it with as much warmth and willingness as he could. That seemed to break through the Seeker's doubts, and he climbed over the berth, and straddled Prowl, hands and knees bracketing him. Prowl stroked a wing gently, took a deep in-vent, and unlocked his chestplates. He opened them and spiraled open his crystal, as Skywarp looked into his optics, seeming to search for something.

 

The bright sparklight made Skywarp look down, and his own chestplates parted in response. Their sparks reached for one another as Skywarp's crystal opened, and Skywarp slowly lowered himself down until their plates touched. The first leaders tangled around each other, and both mechs moaned. They sank into the pleasurable merge, sharing only their enjoyment, and the lovely sensation of joining sparks. Neither wanted to share their thoughts or feelings, and were grateful when none were offered.

 

The charge grew slowly, as it was not helped along by frame-based pleasure. They pulsed their sparks, volleying energy and sensations between them. As the charge gradually swelled, Prowl lost himself in the still-new experience. ~So good...~ he sent, spark reaching for more. The wonder and joy his spark felt from this slid alongside the words, and danced in Skywarp's spark. Nudging closer, Skywarp returned the feelings while adding fleeting impressions of what a true permanent bond felt like- the joy, love, and the oneness- and slid just a little deeper into the merge.

 

As the merge deepened, Prowl could feel his frame beginning to heat up from the pleasure surging out from his spark. Skywarp's ex-vents grew warmer as well, blowing heated air over Prowl. But still all focus was on where their sparks met, frames nearly forgotten aside from reaching hands trying to draw each other closer, as their sparks tangled together and Prowl basked in the ecstasy they shared.

 

~Yes~ Skywarp groaned, pushing more impressions and energy into the merge, sinking into the crackling enjoyment. The pleasure continued to swell and grew into a huge wave that engulfed them, and finally crested, filling their sparks with blissful satisfaction. Even as the the overload hit, the sparkling's spark grabbed the energy, spinning it around itself and adding it, strengthening it's own tiny star. It shone brightly as it orbited Prowl's larger spark.

 

Prowl and Skywarp gulped cooling air as the charge dissipated, crystals and chestplates closing. Skywarp slid to the side, giving Prowl room while they lay there cooling down. A gentle nudge in his spark brought Prowl out of the pleasant floating sensation he'd been enjoying, and brought a question to the front of his processor.

 

Feeling along the edges of this new connection in his spark, Prowl decided to ask. “When your trinemates found us, you said to Starscream that we only had a mate bond. What did you mean by that?” One white hand lifted to lightly rub his chest above his spark.

 

“Oh, you mean you didn't know? Well, I guess it's not something you learn unless you've researched it, or had a sparkling. I know because my creator told me about it. Anyway, if two mechs aren't bonded when they have a sparkling, they form a temporary mate bond. Lasts as long as the sparkling is being carried, and fades a few orns after separation. My carrier had a theory that it was to keep creators close to one another, so that the sparkling would get all the merges and frame building material it needs,” Skywarp supplied, sending amusement and curiosity down the bond. “Didn't your carrier ever tell you about this?”

 

Prowl looked at Skywarp with coolly appraising optics while he quickly calculated the importance of the information he would share. The danger was negligible, and the information obsolete, but sharing might encourage Skywarp to open up in return, and build more report between them. It was just personal, and so not something he often shared. Prowl shrugged. “I never knew my carrier,” he replied. “My carrier was a poor mech who applied to be a surrogate for my Sire and his mate in exchange for fuel and upkeep. My sire's mate was pure-sire, and my creator had no wish to carry, so they hired somemech to carry for them. My carrier left after I separated, and died not long after that. My sires were the only creators I knew, and they never got around to talking about such things with me.”

 

Skywarp just stared at Prowl for several long moments. Finally he reset his optics, and cleared his vents. “Well, that does explain that. You really never knew your carrier? Never felt them along your sparkling bond?”

 

“I felt him briefly. I remember missing him when he died, even though I had not seen him but for a few short breems after I emerged, and that I could no longer feel him in my spark. But I was very young, and the hurt faded quickly. I still had the sparkling bonds with my sires after all, until they faded when I reached adulthood,” Prowl answered.

 

“Huh,” was Skywarp's nonplussed response. “I don't know what I would have done without my carrier. But then again, I never really knew my sire, so I guess it's a matter of perspective.” He opened his mouth to say more, when a pulse from Starscream along his trinebond let him know his time was up. Sighing, he stood, and stretched out his wings. “Time to go. I'll be back as soon as I can. Let me know along the bond if you run out of energon or need anything else before that?” He looked at Prowl, still lying on the berth, and frowned. “You will, right?”

 

“Of course, Skywarp,” Prowl murmured. The Seeker nodded, then with another sigh, headed out. Prowl sat up and reached for one of the cubes Skywarp had left. Sipping it, he pondered memory files that he hadn't opened in vorns. Perhaps he should review them, what he remembered of his creators, now that he was going to be one himself. With nothing else to do at the moment, he settled in to do just that.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Jazz growled to himself in irritation. Their week of spying was nearly up, and he still hadn't found plate nor wire of Prowl's whereabouts. The command trine had left for a little jaunt several days ago, but Jazz hadn't been able to follow them. He was able, however, to get a brief message sent on the most heavily encrypted comm line he could manage to Blaster, letting him know they were out, and to track their flightpath. It was a risk, especially while so near Soundwave, but if it paid off then it was worth it.

 

The Seekers were much more circumspect in their conversations than Jazz had expected- it was almost like they were in the habit of avoiding being listened in on already. Then again, with the mistrust rampant in the Decepticon ranks and having a telepath as TIC, maybe they were. They talked over bond or private comms quite often, and what conversations they had aloud were often riddled with holes and missing information or outright vague. It just made Jazz' job that much more frustrating, and about the only thing he learned during these last three days was that Starscream had a solar energy convertor somewhere, and today Skywarp had hassled an agreement to fix it out of his trineleader. Watching Skywarp irritate Starscream had been amusing, especially when Thundercracker had joined in. The big blue Seeker had been the final push Skywarp needed to win the argument. He'd cracked an optic shutter and looked over at the two arguing from where he sat relaxed on the couch and drawled “You've had all the tools and pieces for nearly an orbital cycle, Star. Surely fixing a converter isn't beyond your brilliant scientific mind? Besides, having an extra supply of energon Megatron can't ration would be nice.” Seeing Starscream puff up his armor and hiss like an angry cat had been the highlight of Jazz' day.

 

When Starscream had imperiously grabbed Skywarp and stated that if he wanted it done, then he better take him there now, Jazz had timestamped the conversation, and made note to go over all of SkySpy's and Cosmos' sensor readings when he got back. Wouldn't hurt to see if they could pinpoint where the jets warped to. It was a bit of a longshot, since they didn't know if they even had the sensors pointed in the right direction to detect anything. It was obviously much harder to track somemech who could pop up anywhere and remain under cover, rather than tracking a mech flying or driving, but Jazz could hope.

 

At least he'd been able to hack into the trine's computer while they were gone that first time. Making note of what Starscream had been researching and copying the bits of schematics and formulas would hopefully allow the Autobot scientists to anticipate some of the Decepticon's new weapons, maybe even come up with ways to disarm or sabotage them before they became a problem. None of the files were complete, and most had notes referencing Starscream's lab computer which Jazz hadn't been able to get to this time, but any little hints helped. And he would never tell Optimus, but he knew for a fact that Perceptor and Skyfire had nerdy mental overloads of science-y delight every time he brought back some of Starscream's work. The mech was brilliant, even if he was a screechy, backstabbing, twisted heap of scrap.

 

Jazz checked the recorders and transmitters he'd placed around the trine's habsuite- both in the rooms and in the vents- one last time. The bugs were sure to be spotted and removed eventually by Soundwave and his crew, and Starscream seemed paranoid enough to do regular sweeps of his quarters. Until then they would gather what intel they could. He set the upload times and checked the security of the encrypted transmission lines once more before beginning to make his way back to the flooded room and their exit. Mirage had already pinged his all 'clear' and 'moving', so Jazz knew he was headed there as well. By the time they made it back to the Ark, Jazz should already have plenty of sound files to decrypt and listen to waiting on the secured and isolated console in his office. Even if Soundwave managed to find and hack all the transmitters back to the computer, the console was not connected to Teletraan's network, and had nothing on it that Soundwave could use.

 

Jazz made it to the airlock with no problems aside from having to backtrack once because of a loose airduct. Entering the little antechamber, Mirage phased into view next to Jazz after he had sealed the door behind him. They opened the vent into the flooded room, dropped in, sealed the vent back up, and were through the hull breach out of the Nemesis in moments. They kept their silence until they were well away from the drowned ship, and even then they didn't say much until they hit dry land.

 

On the beach, they took a few moments to rest and clean up. “Okay, let's get someplace a li'l more secure, th'n I wanta download of everythin' ya got while we were there,” Jazz said, as they dried the seawater off with stitched-together towels they'd pulled from subspace.

 

“It's not going to be much,” Mirage huffed, as he disgustedly picked off and flung away a piece of seaweed that was wrapped around his thigh. “I think that was the most boring and quiet Ops mission I have ever been on.” He watched Jazz' still face and dim visor as he wiped the last of the water off, and sighed. “As much as I wish they were running around shouting about Prowl's disappearance so we could find him faster, you have to admit that it's a good thing they are not. Besides, there might still be clues in what they said, or didn't say.”

 

Jazz flashed his visor and turned a half-smile to Mirage. “I know, an' I agree. I'm jus' frustrated ya know? I got some info fr'm the Seekers, but not as much as I'd like, an' Optimus ain't likely to let meh go back soon.”

 

They walked over the sand and emerged from the beach onto the small empty parking lot of a closed summer-time tourist resort. Transforming, the two mechs set off, driving back towards the Ark. When they had gotten on the highway and headed inland for a while, Jazz commed Mirage with a location. They pulled off the highway into a little town, where Jazz lead his cloaked companion into an old mechanics garage. A burst on the right frequency shut the bay doors behind them, and they returned to root mode. The ceiling was just high enough for the two shorter-than-average mechs to stand, though Mirage had to stoop just a little. Sitting next to the wall, Mirage looked around, field open and curious. There was the large empty bay, with various tools, and one spot even had a lift and pit for working under a car. It was currently empty of humans, but looked well maintained and managed.

 

“How did you know this place would be available?” Mirage asked after he took stock of the building.

 

Chuckling, Jazz sat next to him. “We own th' place, ma mech. Th' Autobots bought the buildin', an' we pay some humans ta keep it up an' keep it open. I called 'em while we were on the road, an' gave 'em the rest o' the day off. They're willin' ta do it since we pay 'em f'r the time anyway,” he explained, field reflecting his amusement for a moment before turning sober. He huffed his vents, and popped open his wrist panel, unspooling the white cable there.

 

“Alrigh' mech, let's get ta th' info,” Jazz ordered softly, passing his datacable to Mirage. Mirage accepted it and offered his own. Jazz plugged Mirage's blue cable into his wrist port, and they exchanged virtual handshakes, then queued up all the gathered intel from their week in the Nemesis. Datapacks were passed, read, deliberated over, and analyzed. They spent the next groon connected, processors linking bits of information and lining up events.

 

-This is interesting- Mirage observed, passing a particular memory file over. When Jazz opened it a video played, made from Mirage's perspective as he stood in a corner of the Decepticon's rec room. Seated at a table nearby, the conehead trine were talking. Well, grumbling was more accurate.

 

“Did you see how much energon Skywarp carted out of here?” Ramjet complained. “I think he grabbed his whole week's worth in one go. What's he need that much for?”

 

“If I didn't know better, I'd wonder if he was starting a heat. Pah, none of us have had enough energon to fill our tanks, let alone enough reserves to activate that,” Thrust growled, glaring at the cube he held in his hand. “At least, _our_ ration percentage doesn't. Bet the so-called _'Winglord's' trine_ gets more.”

 

“If Skywarp's complaints are to be believed, then no, they don't get any more than we do,” Dirge muttered. His trinemates scoffed, and he raised dull red optics, brow ridge raised. “I've never seen them with bigger cubes than anyone else, have you?” When they looked away, the navy blue Seeker continued. “Anyway, if it isn't for a heat, that makes me wonder why else he might need all that extra?”

 

“Maybe Starscream has a project, or they are going on a mission,” Thrust offered with a wing-shrug. “Or maybe he just wants to stock up while we actually have it available.”

 

“Besides, we know Megatron's opinion on heats and sparklings,” Ramjet muttered, and he and his trinemates shuddered, plates clamping tight.

 

The replay ended a few moments later, as they began to bicker about something else. Jazz mulled that last remark over and over in his processor. What did the coneheads mean by that? Jazz couldn't recall any order or decrees made by Megatron concerning sparklings or heats, so either it was an unofficial order, or it was so old it was unwritten and buried under everything else.

 

-Interesting indeed. I think we need to do some research when we get back,- Jazz remarked, before gently disentangling his processor from Mirage's, and plucking the cable from his port. Passing it back and retrieving his own, he slowly spooled it back in, motions running on automatic as he thought. Combined with the secrecy of the command trine, the conehead's words were taking on more and more ominous light.

 

“I think we'd betta hurry back home. An' I hope we c'n find th' answers we need in the database, 'cause I think findin' Prowl jus' got more importan' an' also a lot harder, if the trines are reactin' like this,” Jazz said as he grabbed a cube from subspace. Downing the cube quickly, he stood then transformed. Mirage nodded and followed suit, fueling and transforming next to him. A flick of frequency at the automatic doors to open them, another when they were outside to close them, and then they were off.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 


	11. Old Ashes and New Sparks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to get this out yesterday, but I'm only a day-ish late. writing has slowed down a little this week, but now that I have the next few bits plotted out, hopefully I can bash out the next pages faster and bump up my buffer pages again. 
> 
> Heh. Partly it's my fault, I keep wanting to spoil all of you and make the chapters longer, which is cutting into my buffer and making me have to write more/faster to keep ahead. Guess I need to get crackin' eh? ^_~

-=-=-=-

Soundwave was curious. There was a buzz in the air, and it seemed to be coming from the Seekers. They had been agitated for the last orn or so. The command trine in particular, but when one trine was on edge, it inevitably transferred to the others. But what had them fluttering about this time? There hadn't been any new conflict or competition between the trines. The only thing he could pinpoint as a cause was Skywarp's recent absence and Starscream's resultant punishment from Megatron. Perhaps it was nothing more than Starscream's dented pride.

 

But as he watched, Soundwave began to notice little things. Starscream began to push for more energon raids, while at the same time trying to avoid commanding them. Skywarp spent less time in the rec room socializing, and hadn't been pranking and pestering other mechs much at all. Thundercracker was flying out with Skywarp more often, and Starscream was accompanying them more as well. All three were twitchier, though hiding it well, and keeping their minds and fields in check. Thrust's trine was watching as well and seemed perplexed, even as they enjoyed the extra battles and flight time from the sentry duties Starscream was assigning them. There was something behind this shift in behavior, and Soundwave just had to figure it out. A new surveillance bug went in their quarters, and he adjusted Ravage's patrols to cover the vents near their rooms more often.

 

He also kept closer mental tabs on them, running passive scans whenever he was near them. Skywarp's mind in particular was a froth of jumbled thoughts and half-formed ideas, but it was missing it's usual mischievous slant. The Seeker flitted from thought to thought in such a way that he had always been hard for Soundwave to pin down, even though he couldn't shield very well. It was the lack of playfulness and the flashes of worry that caught Soundwave's attention. It kept him quietly scanning, searching the edges of that chaotic mind, until he began to see a recurrence of certain thoughts and images. An island, a spark, energon, an Autobrand, wings and doorwings, an light blue Seeker with purple wingstripes and forearms. There was an undercurrent to these thoughts that teased at Soundwave, something that felt familiar.

 

The other two had much better mental walls, and Soundwave could not get much of anything from them, even with more aggressive scans. So he listened and spied, slowly piecing together and weaving their private conversations and Skywarp's thoughts into an intriguing picture.

 

Into something he could use.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Time passed oddly for Prowl. Stuck here as he was and left with so little to do, time crawled and jerked about. Some days passed in a hazy blur that seemed over almost as soon as it started. Others crawled and creeped by, every second seeming sharp and too long. The inconsistency bothered Prowl. It bothered his battle computer too, every time Prowl's mind lingered on the odd phenomena- it would insist that nothing of the sort was happening and that Prowl run an immediate systems check. To keep it busy- since his battle computer never did well with prolonged inactivity- Prowl would give it variations of plans, interactions, and battle scenarios to mull through. It also helped to keep Prowl from going mad with boredom. He would watch the play-throughs, and had made something of a game for himself by betting whether a certain outcome would be achieved or not. He now owed himself three new datapads and two new novels. He was even able to _finally_ figure out how the twins and Jazz had managed to pull off a couple of their pranks this way.

 

The monotony of the solar cycles was broken only by Skywarp's visits. A few days after their merge, Skywarp had popped into the building with a muttering Starscream in tow. Plopping down on the berth next to Prowl, Skywarp engaged him in an awkward small talk. Starscream stomped over to the converter, and began to tinker with it.

 

Prowl decided to take advantage of the conversation to gain information and plant some ideas in Skywarp's mind. When the jet's ramblings tapered off, he took advantage of the opening to speak. “It will be nice to have a steady supply of energon. Is that the only one you have?” Prowl asked, nodding towards Starscream where the tri-colored Seeker was snarling to himself over the device.

 

“Well, not the only one, just the only one not sent, uh, being used. Because it was broke. Don't know why they aren't all being used for energon though because we really-” Skywarp broke off, and looked at Starscream, who was glaring at him. “Uh, I mean...”

 

Prowl decided not to pry, not while Starscream was paying attention anyway. He hummed, changing the subject slightly. “We Autobots have a few, but we find that the geothermal energy around the Ark is better. Magma and hot springs release quite a lot of energy, and the energon we can convert from it is strong.” He saw Starscream's wings perk up in interest at the mention of geothermal energy, though he tried to hide it. Prowl noted that interest, and continued speaking. “It has a rather strong flavor as well. But additives help. It is not to everyone's taste, of course, and a few prefer the energon we make from the converters or the energy the Humans give us.”

 

“They give you energy?” Skywarp asked, optics wide, a baffled teek in his field.

 

“Well, yes. It is part of our treaty with one of the human's governments-” Prowl paused as Starscream scoffed.

 

“Why should you bother with a treaty? Those irritating, insignificant little organic pests can't offer you anything that you can't just take from them. It's not like the primitive beasts can stop us,” Starscream grunted as he wrangled a part into place. Affixing it, he looked up at Prowl, wings canted challengingly. “They are small, weak, and their weapons and technologies are useless. There is nothing to gain from a treaty.”

 

Prowl looked back with a raised brow ridge, raising his doorwings higher in response to the challenge. “This is their planet. We have no right to just take, whether we can or not. And they are not as helpless or primitive as you think. Have they not defeated you, and outsmarted you before?” he replied calmly, voice firm but not mocking or raised. Starscream's field and wings still quivered in outrage, no matter how mild Prowl's voice had been. Skywarp's wings and field, however, quivered in suppressed amusement. Starscream narrowed his optics and growled at Skywarp when a small snerk slipped out.

 

“As I was saying,” Prowl continued after a moment when it was clear Starscream wasn't going to say anything, and Skywarp had managed to quell his snickers. “Having different flavors of energon is nice. It will also be nice to know that the sparkling and I will have enough fuel available when that is fixed. Having a steady source and not worrying if you will be able to come with fuel will be a relief.” Fiddling with the chain and giving an obvious look around, he added “Well, it would be if I could reach it.”

 

Skywarp immediately sat up, wings high and wide. “You can't? Screamer, you have to move it closer!” he demanded.

 

“I am not moving this thing just for your pet Autobot! Besides we don't know if he will sabotage it or try to turn it into a communications array or something,” Starscream screeched back.

 

The two Seekers bickered back and forth for a while, before Skywarp won. An exasperated and almost pouting Starscream finished fixing the converter. He checked it over, connected it to the cords leading to the collector outside, and tested it. Muttering subvocally, he then tugged it over to the edge of Prowl's reach. “Fine, there you go you misfiring bolt-head,” he huffed at Skywarp. “Don't be surprised if you come back to find him gone or blown up.”

 

The two Seekers left shortly after that, and Prowl was back to trying to amuse himself. At least he now had energon whenever he wanted. It was a little weak, but plentiful. And it was clean, no impurities, and the light solar flavor was one he had always enjoyed. But as much as he enjoyed it, Prowl noticed a craving for certain flavors and additives he didn't have, and wondered if perhaps he needed supplements already. Ratchet would know, and Prowl wished he was able to talk to the medic. Something to bring up to Skywarp during his next visit.

 

In the meantime, practicing his hand-to-hand combat forms would keep him from going stir-crazy. Now that he didn't have to worry about energy it was an option. And if he couldn't convince Skywarp to release him by the time he no longer needed spark merges... well, he had plenty of time to make plans for that too.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Thundercracker watched his twitchy trinemate with amusement. It had been nearly seven solar cycles since Skywarp had been allowed to visit his carrier-mate, and it showed. He was going with Skywarp this time to see the Autobot, but Starscream had demanded that they not leave until he gave the all-clear. Their trineleader had been extra cautious lately. Not that it was surprising, given the circumstances. They all knew what would happen if Megatron caught wind of their activities.

 

But at the moment, that constant worry was pushed aside in favor of laughing at his trinemate. The young Seeker could barely go a solar cycle without fussing and fretting about his carrier, and this long absence had him thoroughly worked up. Oh, he knew why he needed to wait longer between visits, but Skywarp had taken to the activation of his creator coding very strongly. His need to care, provide, and protect was overwhelming all of his priority threads. Thundercracker had seen it before, in first time creators.

 

Thundercracker was the oldest in their trine. Older even than his trinemates knew. One didn't have to reveal all their secrets in a trinebond after all. It was a deep bond, like a gestalt, but not as deep as a true bond. That, a true bond, was almost more like twins- one spark in two frames, a true melding and sharing of everything. Usually the oldest Seeker would be the trineleader, but when Thundercracker had lost his first trine, he had not the inclination nor the spark to take up leadership. His trine knew that he had flown with others- they felt the pain that he couldn't always mask- but not who they had been.

 

He was shaken out of his memories by Starscream's entrance. Skywarp immediately pounced on Starscream, demanding to be let go to see him mate. Thundercracker chuckled, low and quiet, when Starscream began to berate and rail at Skywarp. Anyone with half a processor could see that Star was busy, still in work mode, and irritable- something Skywarp seemed to lack sometimes.

 

Thundercracker got up to rescue his trinemates from each other. Snagging a black wing, he dragged Skywarp to the couch and pushed him into it with a firm “Sit”. Turning to Starscream, he smoothed the ruffled red and white plating, stroking over the armor until it sat relaxed. All the while he talked, rumbling voice soothing frayed nerves as much as the petting did. Gently guiding Starscream to his room, Thundercracker pulled a cube from subspace and pushed it into Star's hands. Silly jetling forgot to fuel half the time while he was working, and this level of irritability was usually a result.

 

Getting Starscream settled in his room, Thundercracker turned back to the pouting Skywarp. “You know better than to jump Star as soon as he gets in the room, Skywarp,” he chided, hands on hips, and blue wings high. “You know he has to deal with more than we do, and that he needs a little bit of time to redirect his processor, to reprioritize trine interactions over commanding or science.” Thundercracker wilted a little, worry about Starscream taking some of the scolding out of his voice. “He barely has any free time anymore, and the new stress is going to make him worse. So, please, try to remember _not_ to make it harder on him.”

 

“I know,” Skywarp muttered, wings drooping behind him on the couch. Fluffing his plates with a sigh and then resettling them, he sat up straighter. “I know, and I will try harder not to get to him, but TC, it is so hard! I want to be out there all the time. It's getting harder and harder to leave them, and all I can think about while I am here is getting back! I constantly have to delete thought-threads and reorganize priority trees just to get through a shift.” Purple hands fidgeted, rubbing over black thigh plating, plucking at seams. “Is it normal to feel this way?”

 

Thundercracker sat next to the distressed Seeker looking at him with wide, imploring red optics. “Yes, Sky, that is very normal,” he crooned, hugging the black and purple Seeker to his side. Skywarp's hands stopped fidgeting only to clamp onto Thundercracker's chest armor. Poor youngster really was upset. “I remember when I sired my first creation. I was worse than you are- I barely let my mate out of our aerie, and had to take almost a decacycle of leave off just so I could be near him. My coding hit me so hard I was making mistakes in training because my processor was full of nothing but my mate and creation. Until it settled a little I was nothing but a flying hazard.” Thundercracker laughed softly, red optics soft and unfocused as he brought up memory files. “I smothered and pestered my mate until he literally threw me out of our aerie. That finally got through the coding haze. Of course, I got to return the favor during the one time I carried.”

 

Skywarp watched Thundercracker, felt his teek go from _fond-amused-love_ to _melancholy-grief-bittersweet_. He almost didn't ask, but curiosity and a need to know more about his trinemate spurred him. “Did... Do you know if they... I mean your creations, are any of them still...?” Skywarp whispered, hesitantly. His spark clenched at the wave of grief he felt over their bond, before Thundercracker's spark pulled away, thinning it almost shut.

 

“No. They are all in the Well,” Thundercracker keened, hugging Skywarp closer and turned to burrow his helm against a silver shoulder vent.

 

Skywarp held him close as he keened, spark aching for their normally stoic trinemate. Stroking quivering wings, Skywarp hummed and purred his turbines comfortingly, field brushing soothingly against the maelstrom of pain that TC's held. As he rocked Thundercracker like a sparkling Starscream slipped out of his room, and sat on the other side of Thundercracker. Blue hands joined in petting Thundercracker's wings, and white wings covered the two huddled Seekers protectively, while his field blanketed them. The two of them opened their bond wide, pushing all the love and support and compassion they had towards their grieving trinemate.

 

“I'm so sorry TC,” Starscream murmured as he hugged him from behind. “We never knew.”

 

They stayed huddled together until Thundercracker's keens had stopped, and his venting had resumed an even cycle. His optics were lit but dim, and his field had evened back out to an odd flat almost blankness. When he began to speak, it was so low and quiet that at first their audials almost didn't pick it up.

 

“I had three beautiful Seekerlings. Bright and fast and wonderful,” he whispered. “They were in Vos when it fell. My trinemates never really recovered. And they wanted revenge. We had been reluctant to take a side before, but we would never side with the Autobots after that. I lost them in battle not long after we joined Megatron. I wandered for a while after that, went AWOL. Ended up in Praxus. It was neutral, I thought it would be safe. And they were kin, they understood. I got caught up in a heat there, and sparked with a Praxian. I left them there, safe I thought, and went back to Megatron's army. There I found two young Seekers who needed a third in their trine. I needed the stability, and they were brilliant, worthy Seekers, so I bonded with them.

 

And then Megatron moved against the neutrals. He destroyed Praxus.” Thundercracker's vents hitched a moment, then smoothed again, and he continued in the same quiet flat voice with which he began this recital of sad history. “My carrier-mate and sparkling were again caught up in the fall of a city. I lost them. I would have turned on Megatron for that, never have fought for him again, but my new trine needed me. And I needed you even more. I think I would have deactivated or gone mad without you, pain-in-the-manifold sparklings though you are.”

 

He turned serious optics to his two stunned trinemates. “I follow you,” he stated firmly. “ _You_ , never Megatron. His influence brought about the fall of Vos, and then he destroyed the innocents and neutrals whom we had originally set out to set free. I stay here in the wretch's army and I follow his orders because _you_ remain here. I will never again trust him or follow him by my own choice. And he knows, I think- he hasn't really trusted me since I returned after going AWOL. But as long as my trine is here, I am here.”

 

Starscream and Skywarp just stared at him, optics bright in shock and fields a jumble of emotions. Skywarp was the first to move, sitting back to look at Thundercracker better. Tentatively brushing against Thundercracker in their bond, he was relieved when he found it open and welcoming.

 

~I'm sorry TC. I'm sorry you stayed even when you wanted to leave. I'm glad you did though. And... if you don't want to come with me you don't have to...~ Skywarp sent, waves of affection and understanding flowing through the words.

 

~I can go with him instead, TC, if you want.~ Starscream offered, right on the heels of that thought, worry and care also in his words.

 

~Oh, Skywarp, thank you dearspark, but being near a carrier and the brightness of a newspark actually helps. And I can't let you take all the risks, Star.~ Along with the words came the impression of knowing all the delicate balancing and maneuvering Starscream went through to keep them and their secret safe. ~If anything, you may find me nearly as hard to drag back to this dismal base as Skywarp afterwards.~ His playful jibe broke the remaining tension, and though there was still a thread of sorrow in their fields, the mood lightened.

 

“Well then, if you are so willing you had better get moving,” Starscream commented with a small smile. “I arranged for you two to go on a long flight, and you had better make the most of my generosity, before I change my mind and go instead.”

 

Affection and gentle touches were passed between the three, before they untangled themselves. Skywarp and Thundercracker headed out to the lift to go fly- they would enjoy a short flight before they passed beyond sensor range and Skywarp warped them to their refuge-, and Starscream returned to his room, thoughts full of TC's tale. He had always thought Thundercracker as loyal to Megatron as Skywarp, if disapproving of his leadership style. All the fliers certainly disagreed with some of Megatron's laws, and for good reason. That and they followed their Winglord, Starscream, who until now had not been _entirely_ sincere in his coup attempts. But this... this changed things. A new determination filled him, and Starscream decided it was time to up the ante. He just needed to make some adjustments to his plans.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 


	12. Nurturing Flames

-=-=-=-

 

 

They arrived at their hidden base to see a surprising sight. Skywarp had opted to just pop them inside instead of using the door, and they materialized to see Prowl cursing and pulling at the chain. Skywarp was doubly surprised- Prowl had been utterly calm and collected every time he'd come by since the end of the heat.

 

Prowl abruptly stopped cursing, and dropped the chain. Standing up straight, he looked towards the Seekers who had appeared. They stared at each other for a an endless awkward klik, before Thundercracker clicked his vocalizer. “I see you are less than happy with your accommodations at the moment,” he said with barely suppressed amusement.

 

Skywarp elbowed his trinemate. He merely got a flare of amusement along his field in reply. Walking over close to Prowl, he looked at the chain now dangling from his collar and lying innocently on the floor. “What's wrong, Prowl?” he asked.

 

Doorwings flaring high and wide, Prowl growled, exasperation getting the better of him. “I am bored out of my mind, I am trapped inside and unable to transform or go on a drive, and I haven't had a wash in almost an orn, _take your pick_ ,” he snarled, engine rumbling low and angry.

 

Skywarp's optics got huge, and he stepped back a smidge. Wings lowered submissively before he got a hold of himself, and pulled them back up. “Well, I can't let you out to drive,” he stated, then clicked nervously when Prowl snarled again. “But! But I can let you use the waskrack.”

 

“Good,” Prowl growled, turning around and pointing at the collar. “Then get this blasted thing off of me so I can do that.”

 

“Wait!” Thundercracker called, making Skywarp pause. “Oh, I don't mean you won't get your wash,” he chuckled as Prowl growled again. “But first you are going to put on some stasis-cuffs.” He raised a hand and talked over Skywarp's sputtering as he walked closer. “No, Skywarp. He's an Enforcer, and he has survived this war. That means training and knowing how to fight. So if you want that wash, you are going to wear cuffs and let Skywarp scrub your backplates.”

 

Thundercracker met bright pale blue optics with his own, and merely waited. Finally, Prowl huffed and held out his arms. Thundercracker obligingly pulled the cuffs from subspace and snapped them onto the proffered wrists. Stepping back with a gesture towards Skywarp, he let his trinemate take care of deactivating the collar and showing the Praxian to the washrack. Sitting on the berth, he settled in to guard and watch.

 

Prowl happily stood beneath the surprisingly warm water shower. Even having Skywarp scrubbing away at his back and doorwings was enjoyable for the fact he was finally getting clean. For Primus' sake, there had still been flakes of lubricant and transfluid on his plating! For a bot who went to the washracks daily, it had been a special kind of torture to be dirty and have a washrack _right there_ but be unable to reach it. Despite himself, Prowl's engine purred in happiness.

 

Skywarp bit his lip to keep from smiling at the way the Praxian arched into his scrubbing and pressed his doorwings back for more. “Sorry, I hadn't even thought about the waskrack. Pits, half the time I prefer to make do with a cloth and some solvent because the washracks on the Nemesis are always freezing cold. Usually not too clean, either. At least here the water's warm and it's easy to keep the area nice.”

 

“How do you get the warm water?” Prowl asked. His computer had been puzzling over that since the shower started. After all, there was no power source to heat it, and in all the time he had been here there had been no humans or other mechs around to divert/steal it from.

 

“Oh, Screamer came up with that. He set up a huge tank of water, and painted it black. Like a human's water tower, sorta, except open on top. It gathers the rain water, and the sun heats it up. Pretty smart huh? And it works all on it's own too, no need to do anything with it other than clean the tank once in a while,” Skywarp explained, happy to show off his trinemate's ingenuity.

 

Prowl nodded. This fit in with the information he had been able to gather about this area. No humans, but plenty of birds and other animals. Rain nearly every day, and the temperature was steady, warm and humid. It was quite a bit warmer here than the Autobot's territory would be now that they were headed into autumn. The Seekers had obviously chosen somewhere tropical for their hideaway.

 

“We are lucky at the Ark. The geothermal energy lets us have hot water in abundance. If anything, sometimes it is too hot,” he commented, rubbing at a stubborn spot on his thigh with his cuffed hands. “Being clean is nice, especially as I have become accustomed to it. Even if I wasn't, Ratchet would throw me into a bath himself if I didn't stay clean. After all, it's harder to get a rust infection if you're clean, and Primus help you if he learns you have grease or dirt built up in your joints and gears.” His doorwings waggled a little in amusement before he sighed. “But for all his gruffness, he is a great medic. I rather wish I could talk to him at the moment.”

 

Wings perked up in mild alarm, Skywarp stopped scrubbing for a moment. “Why?” he asked. Putting a hand on Prowl's shoulder he turned him so that he could see his face. “Is there something wrong?”

 

Huffing, Prowl shook his head. “No, nothing wrong. Or rather, nothing more than what I am dealing with already.” When Skywarp gave him a puzzled look Prowl arched a brow. “I am a prisoner, until recently I had to rely on an unreliable fuel source, washing is a privilege, I can't get out of this room and the need to drive is beginning to wear on me, _and_ I am beginning to get cravings. Ratchet would know what to do about the cravings at least, even if the rest is nothing he could fix.”

 

Skywarp's optics widened, and he looked back at Thundercracker. The blue Seeker shrugged, but his optics narrowed thoughtfully. Turning back to Prowl, he asked, “What kind of cravings?”

 

“Certain flavors. Certain types of energon. But mostly I want additives, metals, and find I would do just about anything right now for silicon-sprinkled copper wafers or a rust-stick,” Prowl informed them.

 

“Ah,” Thundercracker hummed, a smile tugging at his mouth. “That is perfectly natural, but not an indication of _needing_ anything just yet. If you begin to get warnings on your HUD about deficiencies _then_ we will have to worry. Until then, these cravings are more likely just desires for comfort and to be spoiled, and maybe to help fill your reserves with extra minerals and energy. Every carrier gets them. My mates always thought it was a left over from more primitive times, a way for the carrier to test a sire's ability to provide.” His optics dimmed a moment, then flared bright again.

 

Skywarp trilled, sending affection to Thundercracker along their bond. No matter what TC said, he knew this had to be hard on the older Seeker. Prowl looked at them questioningly, but neither offered anything more. Shrugging, he finished up his shower, turned off the water, then headed back towards the berth.

 

“I suppose a drive is out of the question still?” he asked as Thundercracker held his wrists and Skywarp picked up the collar and chain.

 

“Sorry,” Skywarp shrugged, snapping the collar into place and activating it. “You would try to escape, and that would defeat the purpose of having you here. Besides, there really isn't anywhere for you to drive here.” He stepped back, and Thundercracker released the cuffs and put them away.

 

Prowl fought with himself for a moment, his battle computer throwing fits at the idea of revealing such a potentially exploitable weakness, but _need_ , as spark-felt and powerful as any heat, pushed him. “Please,” he nearly begged. Forcing his voice more level he continued.“If not this time, at least let me do some driving next time, please? I promise not to try to escape or do anything you don't want, but I really do need to get out of here and on my wheels.” The two Seekers looked at him sceptically and he sighed, doorwings drooping. He really hadn't wanted to explain this to them, he had hoped they would just allow it, however restricted.

 

“Seekers and Praxians are kin, you know this. What happens to a flier who it trapped, and can't get to the sky?” Two sets of red optics widened and he nodded. “Exactly. While we are not as badly effected by sky-hunger or sky-madness as our flighted kin, we still need it. Some get it worse than others. I not only have strong seeker-kin coding, but Enforcer coding as well, and the need to _move_ , to _drive_ , is very strong in me. Will you let me?”

 

He watched them as their wings twitched and fanned, optics dimming and brightening while they talked over their bond. Obviously there was some kind of argument going on, but it didn't appear to be between the two of them. Perhaps Starscream had some objections. Skywarp's movements became more aggressive and pronounced, until finally he relaxed and smirked triumphantly. Focusing on Prowl again, he nodded. “Yeah, we can work something out. But Starscream says you have to wait until next time, and he insists that all three of us fly with you, even if you do promise to behave.”

 

“That is acceptable,” Prowl agreed with a relieved ex-vent. Glancing between the two of them, he hesitated, then asked, “Are we going to strengthen the sparkling? It is time to, and I wish to, but I would rather not have... extra company if I am to expose my spark.”

 

“Oh, right. Sure. You can wait outside, right TC?” Skywarp suggested, looking at Thundercracker.

 

“Hm, I suppose I might as well enjoy a nap in the sun, take a moment to absorb some of its warmth while we're here,” Thundercracker conceded, heading towards the door and out into the bright sunny day.

 

Skywarp and Prowl stared awkwardly at each other for a few kliks after TC had closed the door. Finally, Prowl tipped his head, and gestured towards the berth. Skywarp flexed and resettled his plates, then gave sheepish grin and headed to the berth. They sat side by side, looking at each other. Skywarp seemed unsure where to start, and Prowl merely watched him, doorwings twitching. Skywarp's optics were drawn to that movement, and it brought up memory files of all the lovely reactions playing with them had elicited from Prowl. Without realizing it, his hand followed those thoughts and reached for one black and white doorwing.

 

Prowl froze the moment he touched it, then shivered as Skywarp caressed the edge. Skywarp cupped the edge of the doorwing, thumb rubbing circles over the plating and leaned closer. A sudden nip at the top corner made Prowl jump. Prowl glanced over to see gleaming red optics watching him, as a wicked grin crossed Skywarp's face, just before his glossa swept over where he had nipped. Prowl's attempt to muffle his moan failed as Skywarp's other hand sneaked up behind him to toy with his hinges.

 

Prowl waged a brief internal battle. He really would rather not interface, but the advantages- getting closer to Skywarp and gaining his trust, getting more material for the sparkling (even if forging had only just begun), and physical stress relief- broke down his objections. With another moan, Prowl gave in to the moment. He reached for Skywarp, putting his hands on the Seeker's chest. White fingers mapped out silver and black plates, dipping into vents and toying with seams.

 

It was Skywarp's turn to moan. He abandoned the doorwing he had been nibbling on just long enough to pull Prowl closer. He buried his face in Prowl's neck cables, sucking on them as the fingers exploring and teasing his frame crept around to the base of his wings. Not to be outdone, Skywarp renewed his doorwing assault. Reaching around, he fondled the sensor panels, and found the door handles, flicking the tiny catches with the tips of his fingers. Prowl gasped and arched into him- the handles were sensitive, very much so, so that he could detect when a human's soft grip touched them. Grinning, Skywarp hugged him tighter, hooking his chin over Prowl's shoulder to better watch those lovely doorwings flutter and twitch as he played with them.

 

Prowl squirmed and mewled, unsure if he was trying to get away from or get more of those touches on his now hypersensitive panels. An amused chuckle by his audial sparked a tiny flare of irritation, and he decided to give as good as he was getting. Pushing his way through the overwhelming feedback from his doorwings, Prowl focused on attacking the Seeker's wings. He tweaked flight panels, caressed the leading edge, dug his fingers in the hinges and played with wires and cables. Soon, he had Skywarp gasping, leaning against him, hands doing nothing more than holding on to him to keep upright. With a triumphant smirk, Prowl found a particularly sensitive sensor cluster near the hinges, and stroked it. Skywarp cried out, hands sliding down and gripping Prowl's hips.

 

Those purple hands began running over Prowl's hip joints and thighs. Staticy, breathy groans escaped them both as Skywarp found the sensitive cables in Prowl's hips and Prowl continued playing with wing joints. Skywarp's stroking hands became more insistent, and began to concentrate their caresses on Prowl's interface panel.

 

“Please,” Skywarp groaned, rubbing over the warm panel with one hand while the other gently pressed Prowl back to lie on the berth.

 

Prowl nodded, and let the black panel slide away to reveal his secondary covers. Those were stroked and teased until they too slid open, valve and spike housing uncovered. Prowl arched and gasped as gentle fingers traced over the pliant mesh of his valve rim then circled the head of his emerging spike. Reaching for Skywarp, Prowl's hands found an already eager spike waiting for him. He hadn't even heard the Seeker's panels open, so distracted had he been by the touches.

 

They were quick to move together, heated, teased frames more than ready. Skywarp slid his spike into the warm wet valve, and groaned in unison with Prowl. They set a quick pace, thrusting against each other and searching for that lovely mindless release of overload.

 

As they got close, Skywarp levered himself up, and stroked down Prowl's chest with one hand. Prowl gladly opened, charge rising and wanting to feel it surging through their sparks. He met Skywarp's opened chest with his own. Their sparks tangling together, both feeding the erotic pleasure they felt and sharing it.

 

The charge ramped up fast. It was only a few pulses before their sparks flared, surged, and ignited, throwing them into overload. Prowl cried out, valve clamping down, as Skywarp roared and spilled crackling charged transfluid into him.

 

The intense flush of pleasure over, they lay panting. Prowl could feel the last flickers travel through his frame, could swear he felt them spinning around his spark and being pulled in. He was distracted from the thought by Skywarp grunting, and pulling off him to flop over on the berth. Their chestplates closed, now they had room to do so without scraping.

 

Sitting up, Prowl gather a couple cloths and wiped himself down, then closed his panels. He looked up as Thundercracker came back into the building. Thundercracker only glanced at him, before heading to the solar energy converter. Pulling empty cubes from subspace he filled them up with energon. Subspacing most of them, he brought two over to the mechs on the berth.

 

“Here, Sky,” Thundercracker said, nudging one of the black and purple peds hanging off the edge of the berth. “Drink this, and get more when you are done. You've been running on short rations, and while this stuff isn't the strongest energon out there, at least you can fill your tank while we are here.”

 

“Short rations?” Prowl asked, accepting the other cube which Thundercracker handed to him.

 

“Hm. It is not so bad right now, but yes,” Thundercracker raised a brow ridge and just looked at Prowl. “Where do you think _your_ fuel was coming from before Starscream fixed the converter? Sky was giving you so much of his fuel we had to split ours with him just to keep him fed. Now he's paying us back.” He poked Skywarp in a particularly sensitive spot in his ped thruster, making him yelp. “Silly first-time sire,” he chuckled.

 

Prowl sipped the energon, and thought. _First-time sire_. Interesting that Skywarp, who was at least as old as Prowl, had never had sparklings, yet Thundercracker spoke as though _he_ at least had done so before. Come to think of it, sparklings in general were unheard of in the Decepticons. Surely even with the war, the Seekers and fliers of the Decepticons had had a few sparklings, at least in the beginning when resources were still good. There were not many flight-frames, and precious few Praxians left, so that explained why so few on the Autobot side. Oh, there was the occasional accidental kindling, and several orphans found and raised, though that had become rarer and rarer as the war progressed. But what about the Decepticons? Where were the younglings?

 

Something of his thoughts must have reached his field, or leaked through the mate-bond because both Seekers suddenly withdrew into themselves. Their fields tucked close, and they avoided looking at him. That was interesting, and disturbing. Flaring his field pushing it into theirs, and searching along the bond, Prowl tried to find what had made them clam up. Looking between them, he set the cube down.

 

“You have suddenly retreated, both of you. I was wondering about sparklings in the Decepticons and can only surmise that you picked up on my thoughts. Why this reaction? What are you hiding?” Prowl questioned, narrowing his optics at them.

 

“Slag,” Skywarp muttered, while Thundercracker just shook his head.

 

When no answers were forthcoming, Prowl growled, rumbling his engine irritably. “If there is a danger then I should know about it, if only so I can avoid it. I will figure it out eventually anyway- my computer was _made_ to see pieces of information and put them together to solve puzzles after all,” he finished with just a hint of smugness.

 

Thundercracker sighed, air rushing from his vents, and his wings sagged. “Fine. I suppose you should know. I'm sure the Autobots are aware that Shockwave is from Tarn?”

 

“Yes. I have long thought that, along with his apparent lack of emotion, _that_ is the reason behind some of his worst atrocities. Tarn's citizenship reprogramming always did seem to twist it's mecha,” Prowl mused, tapping a finger on his thigh.

 

“Well, Megatron's from Tarn too,” Thundercracker stated, voice flat.

 

Sputtering, doorwings pulled back in shock, Prowl stared with wide optics. “But- I mean- Kaon! I thought Megatron was Kaonite!” he finally managed to get out.

 

Shrugging, Thundercracker leaned against the side of the berth beside Skywarp. “A logical assumption, I suppose, given that that is where Megatron began his career as warlord. But no- he was a Tarnish miner who ended up in Kaon's gladiator pits. He gained popularity from his fights. That is why his movement started there,” he explained.

 

“But Tarn...” Prowl's voice trailed off, spark sinking and tanks clenching as he began to put the pieces together.

 

Skywarp shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself, while Thundercracker nodded with another weary sigh. “Tarnish mecha believe that only Vector Sigma mecha are real mecha, and that sparklings are unformed, incomplete, and little better than a barely sparked drones. That a sparkling's only redeeming trait is that they are completely programmable, trainable, and their impressionable sparks can be put into any ready-made frame you wish. As long as you don't care what their spark traits and CNA would have influenced their protoform would grow into.”

 

Prowl couldn't form any words. His processor threatened a crash, but he ruthlessly pushed it aside. He knew this about Tarn, this wasn't a surprise. It was just that he had never thought about what it meant for non-Tarnish mecha. Especially when they are under the dictatorial command of one. Resetting his vocalizer several times, he finally managed to ask “Then any Decepticon mecha who have kindled...?”

 

“Have the sparkling taken away from them and reformatted. Usually into cannon fodder. Usually by Shockwave,” Thundercracker answered grimly. Skywarp let out a little whimper and Thundercracker put his arm around him, pulling him close.

 

“But that kind of trauma would create unstable mecha... _Oh_. I think I know where some of the most notorious Decepticons came from now, don't I?” Prowl said weakly, swallowing down rising nausea. Oh Primus below, they had been fighting and killing literal sparklings.

 

“At least most of them didn't last long, Primus have mercy on their poor sparks. And those carriers that didn't go half-mad with grief or defect were never quite right after, either. We learned quickly how to prevent getting sparked up, well, where the war or short rations didn't help prevent it. And heats stopped almost as soon as the war started, so that was a blessing,” Thundercracker muttered, nuzzling Skywarp's helm, and running soothing hands down his back. The younger Seeker was still making distressed sounds, his new creator programming bombarding him with upset reaction and anxiety at the thought of that kind of threat to their sparkling. To any sparkling.

 

“How is it that the Seekers stayed, then? Why would you not leave Megatron when he is such a threat to your sparklings?” Prowl couldn't help but ask, his own creator programming surging as badly as Skywarp's.

 

“Oaths, the tradition of following our Winglord's rule, and the initial betrayal by the Senate were reason enough for some. Others felt trapped by the time they knew since they had already been killing former friends who joined the Autobots. Some are held by trinemates, mates, and friends who won't leave. There are many reasons. And it is not as if the Autobots would make it easy for any of us to defect. You barely know what to do for the fliers you already have- you restrict their flying to duty only, and you hardly treat them as more than transport or weapons. How could we leave one cage for another? At least in the Decepticons we are honored as warriors, and allowed to fly,” Thundercracker explained.

 

Prowl reset his optics and looked at them blankly. “I think you must be operating under some rather bad information, or Decepticon propaganda, if you believe that,” he finally said. “Our fliers are allowed flight time daily, although it is true that this sometimes overlaps with their patrol duties by necessity. But they are always allowed out to do as they please as long as they are not on duty. We do recommend they stay within Autobot territory, for protection, if that is what you mean by restricting their flight?”

 

Two pairs of bright red optics merely stared at him. Then they looked at each other. “No, that is not what I meant,” Thundercracker answered after a moment. “It seems I am indeed relying on faulty data for my assumptions.”

 

Both Seekers suddenly jumped, wings hiking up. Thundercracker stiffened, optics flickering as he concentrated on the message he was receiving, while Skywarp grabbed his neglected energon. Skywarp gulped down the rest of his cube, and ran over to the converter and poured another. He gulped it and one more down, then filled it one last time and put it in his subspace. Running back to Thundercracker, he grabbed his arm and warped them out.

 

“Well,” Prowl said to the suddenly empty room, “I guess they were needed elsewhere.” He just hoped it wasn't something that would lead to Autobots getting hurt. Or the Seekers, as much as he cringed at being concerned about enemies. However, the sinking in his spark only backed up the data-thread from his computer telling him that there was a 93% probability something bad had just happened.

 

 

-=-=-=-


	13. Flaring Up

-=-=-=-

 

Bluestreak was a patient mech. Being a sniper meant he had to be- waiting was the nuts and bolts of being successful when it came to learning a target's habits and lining up a distant, difficult shot. But there was only so much waiting even he could put up with, and his patience was running out.

 

Bluestreak had waited for somebot to tell him what was going on. He'd complained to his friends about the lack of information, only to be met with silence and averted optics. After much arguing and demanding, the twins, Hound, and Bee had finally told him they were under orders not to say anything. Needless to say this just made him more worried and determined to know. He had stalked and finagled alone time with each of the officers in turn. Wheeljack had been easiest and first to be cornered, but the engineer had been evasive to the point of talking nonsense and Bluestreak had left the lab in frustration. When he had cornered Ironhide in the shooting range, the old red mech had just flat out growled, refused to talk, and walked out. Blue had then spent a whole off shift trying to get Ratchet to tell him, endlessly questioning until the medic had yelled at him, tossing a wrench at his helm and forcefully evicted him from the medbay. Red Alert refused to even let him in the security room, and yelled at him through the door about clearances and breaches and need-to-know until Blue had left. Jazz had been unavailable for over a week, but when he got back the Spec Ops commander had become nothing more than a fleeting sensor ghost whenever Bluestreak went to look for him.

 

Deciding that the 'hunt and interrogate' method wasn't working, he tried to set up an official meeting with an officer. With any of them- he specifically left that bit of the request form vague. And was denied. So he sent it in again. He even waited a few days before sending in the request, in case somebot came to him instead. And was denied again. Three times.

 

Finally, it had come down to Bluestreak cornering Prime in his own office. Using overrides of Prowl's that he shouldn't even know, Bluestreak unlocked the office door and marched up to the desk and demanded answers. When Optimus began to make noises about telling him later, Bluestreak had enough. Slamming his hands on the Prime's desk, he snarled, while Optimus reset his optics in surprise at the normally affable mech.

 

“No, I will not leave until you tell me where my creator is! I might be young, I might not be an officer, but I have a right to know where the mech who raised me is! Prowl was supposed to be back on duty over a month ago. He's been gone almost two months total already. He told me he'd be gone for a while and why, but _this is not right_. What's going on?” Bluestreak demanded, optics locked on the Prime with an intensity that usually only shown when he was looking through the scope of his rifle. His doorwings were flared aggressively, the gray panels quivering with tension. “I tried to ask. All the other officers are avoiding me or flat out refusing to tell me. I tried three times to set up an official meeting with one of you, and keep getting the run around. I've had enough! _Tell me what is going on_!”

 

Optimus sighed, shoulders slumping a little under the younger mech's justifiably angered scrutiny. One big blue hand came up to rub at a helm finial, trying to rub away the helm-ache brewing. Briefly he debated keeping the exact nature of the situation from Bluestreak, but one look at the demanding optics glaring out from under a red chevron dissuaded that notion. The young Praxian was not going to leave this alone- as demonstrated by the fact he was here now being interrogated by the youngster in his own office!

 

“Alright Bluestreak. You are right, you deserve to know what has happened to your creator,” Optimus said, leaning forward to rest his arms on his desk. “Yes, Prowl went on leave for his heat. He made it to the location safely, but was later discovered by Skywarp. We aren't sure how he made it that far into our territory, but we think that a storm during that time weakened our defenses enough for him to get close enough to detect Prowl. We _do_ know that Prowl spent at least part of his heat with the Seeker. And we know that Skywarp and his trine abducted Prowl. Red Alert and Wheeljack's investigations into how this could have happened revealed it was mostly Unicron's own luck that lead to this. There were two defense turrets there, and one was buried in a mudslide in the storm, but because it was undamaged it didn't send a proper malfunction report. The other was functional, aside from the firing mechanism which had it's wires chewed through by some small mammals-”

 

“What!” Bluestreak yelled, having finally overcome the shock that froze up his processor enough to activate his vocalizer. “Why wasn't I told this before?! As his creation you think I'd be told! How did this even happen?! What's being done to get him back? Where did they take him? Was he damaged? Do the Decepticons have him? If the Decepticons have him... Is he okay? Please tell me he's okay!” Bluestreak's ventilations started to become fast and shallow, doing nothing to actually cool his stressing systems as he began to panic. “Oh, Primus, he has to be okay. I can't lose him, I just can't. Oh Primus, what if- what if-” Bluestreak trailed off, nothing but static emerging from his vocalizer as his processor fixated on the possibility of losing Prowl. His optics unfocused and his vision blurred, caught in the thought-loop. His engine whined as it threatened to overheat. Slumping over the desk as his arms lost strength, Bluestreak could hear Optimus saying something, but the buzz in his processor drowned him out.

 

His vents stuttered and the pitch of his engine went up a notch. Cool hands caught him as he fell and set him in a chair. Voices swam around him. A cable connected to his cortical port. A mind pressed against his, and a firm, calm voice broke through the continuously looped ' _what if Prowl's deactivated what if I'm alone again I can't be alone I can't lose Prowl but what if_...' thought-threads.

 

=Bluestreak, you are having a panic attack. You're overheating, and I need you to cycle a vent for me. Can you do that?= the mind-voice asked. =Just pull in one big deep in-vent. That's it. Alright, now push it out. Good. Now in-vent again. And ex-vent. In-vent, ex-vent. Let's get your cooling fans going too...= The other mind picked over his systems and tugged on a line of code, and he could feel his fans buzz to life. Gloriously cool air flowed into his frame. =There we go, now you're cooling off.=

 

Bluestreak took another big in-vent on his own, then reset his optics. Focusing finally, he saw Optimus kneeling in front of him with his big blue hands clutching one of his own smaller silver ones. Turning his helm, he saw Ratchet standing next to him, scanner in one hand and cable strung between them, wrist to helm. =Ratchet?= he murmured over the connection.

 

=There you are. Welcome back, kiddo. Why don't you talk to the Big Bot before he blows a circuit worrying about you, while I disconnect us, eh?= Ratchet replied, a smile on his face and in his voice.

 

“Sorry, Optimus. I, I... I panicked. I had a panic attack I think. I am just really worried about Prowl,” Bluestreak whispered, while Ratchet disconnected the cable from his port and put the scanner away. Blue kept his optics looking at Optimus hands around his and avoiding the Prime's face. Embarrassment skittered through his field and made his doorwings dip.

 

“It's alright Bluestreak,” Optimus reassured, patting the hand he held. Releasing it, he reached for Bluestreak's chin and tilted his head up until he could meet his optics. “You are entirely justified in reacting the way you did. It was a shock, and you have faced devastating loss before. That is enough to effect any mecha.” Sitting back on his heels, Optimus dropped his hand to Bluestreak's knee. “But there is some good news- We found no evidence of injury at the abduction site, Jazz has been to the Nemesis and back and Megatron is unaware of Prowl's absence, and the Seekers seem to be keeping this a secret. Unfortunately, this means we aren't sure where Prowl is at the moment, but with the way the Seekers are acting, it is very likely they are caring for him.”

 

“Caring for Prowl? Why? I mean, he's an enemy, why would they-” Bluestreak cut off and his optics widened. “Prowl went away for a heat... You mean you think he got sparked up?! By a Seeker? By Skywarp?!”

 

“Hush, youngster,” Ratchet scolded as Bluestreak's voice reached near-Starscream worthy decibels. “No need to blow out all of our audials. Yes, that is what we mean- we are fairly certain by this point that the reason the command trine stole Prowl is because Skywarp kindled with him. As much as this is a problem, in a way it is good, because Seekers are protective and caring towards mates. So Prowl should be in good shape when we find him and rescue him,” Ratchet explained to the still wide-opticed sniper.

 

“A sparkling? Really?” Bluestreak's normal loquacity seemed to have been derailed, and all he seemed able to do was stare at the older mechs and squeak those two questions at them for the next breem. When he was able to pull his processor back together, they gently scooted him out the door with admonitions to keep quiet, don't worry, and to come to them if he had more questions.

 

Ratchet sighed, and turned to Optimus. He watched as the Prime walked around his desk and sat back down in his chair. “Do you think Blue realizes yet that even if we get Prowl back, both he and the sparkling could be endangered if Skywarp isn't willing to come too?” the medic wondered out loud.

 

Dropping his head onto his fist, Optimus sighed as well. “I don't know, old friend, but I hope for all our sakes that you are right about Seekers and their predilection for being attentive creators. Even if that will make it harder to get Prowl away from them. But either way we are going to have some interesting and difficult roads to navigate up ahead.”

 

Ratchet grunted agreement and left the Prime to his work.

 

It wasn't long after that the alarms sounded, and they raced off to do battle with the Decepticons yet again.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Soundwave cursed silently to himself, while trying to manage the disaster this raid had become. Megatron was ignoring the plan (as usual) to engage the Prime, while the team that was supposed to be collecting the energy from this power plant had been ambushed by Tracks and Trailbreaker. Then the entire pack of minibots had gotten involved in distracting and wreaking havoc, while the frontliners on both sides brawled. Now he had Decepticons running everywhere, ignoring orders and abandoning their tasks, and fliers pulling their own stunts because _of course_ Starscream was the Air Commander and knew better than a mere grounder what needed to be done despite the fact that Soundwave was the one trying to coordinate all of this chaos..!

 

A stray shot hitting too close to where he stood brought Soundwave's attention back to the battle. More specifically, it brought his attention back to the fighting which was beginning to encroach upon the building, the roof of which he was using as a vantage point. Time to move.

 

~Rumble, Frenzy: distract and detain minibots.~ Soundwave told them telepathically while he made his way off the building and to a safer viewing point.

 

~Sure thing Boss!~ Rumble confirmed gleefully, while Frenzy cackled. They lit into the minibot pack with enthusiasm. Piledrivers activated and sent bots tumbling. It also managed to bring down the side of the building Soundwave had been standing on, creating a pile of rubble and dust. Using the dust to confuse the Autobots, the twin cassettes managed to slip past them, taunting, and draw them farther away from Soundwave's new position.

 

Nodding in satisfaction, Soundwave surveyed the battle from his new vantage. ~Lazerbeak, Buzzsaw: observe and relay enemy positions~ he commanded, contacting his two avian cassettes. Confirmation pings were sent in reply, as the little birdlike fliers spiraled over the battlefield, and images and nav points began to filter in as they were relayed over their comms.

 

Soundwave sent a pulse of satisfaction over their bonds, and turned his attention to the data coming in. ~Ravage: guard,~ he sent, while he mulled over the new information. He felt Ravage acknowledge and knew he would have plenty of warning should their position be compromised. Looking at the current battle layout, he thought that they might just be able to salvage the mission, especially since Prowl was suspiciously absent (and didn't that nicely fill in a piece of data he was missing). But now, if he could just direct Blitzwing over this way... Yes, that was keeping Ironhide busy. Now the rest of the Decepticon fighters were on more even odds, and Ironhide was separated from helping Inferno and the twins gang up on Brawl and Astrotrain. And if Rumble, Frenzy, and the Stunticons would just keep that herd of minibots occupied, especially the tank and the strong one- good. Now he just needed to get the Constructicons and the Seekers back onto the field. It looked like the Constructicons had evaded Tracks and Trailbreaker- who were now helping the minibots- and were handling getting the energy and parts, good, but where were the Unicron blasted Seekers?...

 

His question was answered, unfortunately, as he watched the twins break off from pounding Astrotrain into the turf-- Primus dammit the sniper was here, Soundwave hadn't even heard the shot that brought the triple-changer down, knee joint torn-- and drive. Why were they headed towards the building that Rumble had brought down?...

 

Soundwave cursed with all the inventiveness that vorns in an army of uncouth mecha could instill as he watched the twins leap into the air and grapple with the Command trine.

 

…

 

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been waiting for this. A skirmish was the perfect time to get a little revenge on the trine with some jet-judo. Hey, _they_ may pick on Prowl, but he was their favorite stuffy-bot, and the Decepticons weren't allowed to mess with him. Besides, no one took _that kind_ of advantage of another mecha while the twins had anything to say about it. Seemed Skywarp had missed that lesson, so it was up to them to re-educate him and his trinemates.

 

They grabbed their chance to grab some Seeker wings during a brief lull in the front line fighting. Transforming, the two lamborghinis rocketed down towards a piece of building debris that formed a makeshift ramp. Launching into the air, they transformed to root mode and met the Seekers who had been coming in low for a strafing run. Unfortunately Skywarp was a bit out of range, but Sunny was perfectly happy taking on Starscream instead, and Sideswipe decided that Thundercracker made a fine consolation prize. Even if he couldn't shred Skywarp's armor himself, tearing up a trinemate would still make for a great lesson.

 

…

 

Safe and remote on a nearby hill, Bluestreak watched the fighting through his scope. Officially, he was to provide cover for the heavy hitters, but at the moment his focus was on Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Specifically, he was following their jet-judo. Anger bubbled in his spark, and he couldn't help but feel a little satisfied at watching the twins rip into the plating and bend the wings of the Seekers. They _deserved_ it, after what what they had done to Prowl. Surprising him during a heat, assaulting him while he was vulnerable, and then mechnapping him, treating him Primus knew how...

 

Fury flushed hotly through his lines, particularly when he spied a flash of purple and black wings. _Skywarp_. Bluestreak growled, a low rumble of his engine. Drawing a bead on that Seeker was almost too much temptation. Especially when the jet scored a laser hit on Sideswipe's red chestplate, who was astride a frantically swerving Thundercracker's dorsal plates and tearing at his canopy. Starscream shrieked- loud enough for Bluestreak to hear from his hilltop- as Sunstreaker retaliated for his brother, yellow hands ripping huge rents in white wings. Skywarp should be the one getting torn up, not the other jets, and certainly not the twins!

 

As Skywarp banked to assist his trineleader, Bluestreak gave in to temptation and fired. However, just as he pulled the trigger, Skywarp vanished, teleporting to get a better angle for firing on Starscream's attacker. Bluestreak's shot flew through where Skywarp had occupied and instead hit Thundercracker's thruster as he rolled. All three Seekers cried out, and Thundercracker began to fall, thruster emitting smoke and sparks. Bluestreak's spark thudded as he watched Sideswipe bail, parachute deploying, as the blue Seeker lost control and altitude. His trinemates tried to fly closer, but were hampered by shots peppering the air and Sunstreaker's enthusiastic renewed assault. Before they could reach him, Thundercracker crashed. A great billow of smoke and dirt and torn plating was tossed into the air as the jet flipped and skidded over the ground.

 

Everything seemed to stop for a moment as mechs looked up when Starscream screeched, and watched the rather one-sided aerial fight. Their optics were therefore all on the sky when the blue Seeker careened out of control. Mechs dove for cover as Thundercracker came down. Megatron took advantage of Optimus' inattention to deliver a blow that knocked the Prime down. Optimus rolled, avoiding a second blow, and raised his blaster. He managed to get a hit on Megatron, causing the silver mech to snarl, left hand grasping his right shoulder. Megatron kicked the blaster from his hand, but the damage had already been dealt. His fusion cannon now out of commission, and with the battle still interrupted from the crash, Megatron decided it was time to leave.

 

“Decepticons, retreat!” Megatron bellowed over the field, as he activated his anti-gravs and rose out of Prime's reach. Turning, he and his followers retreated.

 

All except for the command trine. Starscream swept down low over the field, flying in a tight corkscrew, which finally threw Sunstreaker off. The yellow twin barely had time to yell before he impacted into the ground hard. Skywarp, meanwhile, warped to Thundercracker's side, intending to warp the both of them to safety. However, several Autobots had been converging on the downed Seeker, and fired on Skywarp as soon as he appeared. Crying out in pain, Skywarp had to teleport away with no Thundercracker, but several new blaster holes in his wings. He flew off behind Starscream, trailing smoke and energon.

 

When the last of the Decepticons were beyond firing range, the Autobots looked at the offline Seeker. Ratchet looked up from assessing the jet's injuries and shared a glance with Optimus as the big red mech joined him. Sideswipe walked up towards the group with Sunstreaker, whose arm was draped over his shoulder and limping, beside him. Ratchet stopped closing leaking lines in the Seeker just long enough to take a good long look at Sunstreaker, before sending Wheeljack over to help him. The fall hadn't injured the yellow twin much, his extra thick plating managing to deflect most of the impact aside from a few deep dents and a broken leg strut. The arm not holding his brother looked like it might be misaligned or bent, but that was something to fix later. A brace on his leg until they were in the medbay, and some pounding out dents later, and he would be fine.

 

Sunstreaker was the most injured of the Autobots. Ironhide had a wrenched shoulder, Optimus was dented good and his hand had a few broken fingers from Megatron's kick, and the minibots were pretty scuffed, but they had come out of this fight in fairly good shape.

 

Really, the worst injured mech here was the Decepticon, and if Optimus didn't give some orders there might be more wounds on the flier than from the crash. Already there was grumbling and growling coming from those that were in the know.

 

Jazz materialized next to Optimus, and took one look at the developing situation, and created a distraction. “Alrighty, I got th' humans outta the way, but now they need transpor' ta medical facilities an' such. Any volunteers ta watch 'em 'til th' human help arrives?” Jazz asked, with a pointed look in Bumblebee's direction. Bumblebee nodded, and raised his hand. Inferno and Beachcomber volunteered also, and headed over to sit with the humans.

 

“Good,” Optimus rumbled. Sweeping his optics over the remaining 'bots cowed the rest- namely Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Ironhide. “Skyfire is on his way. Jazz, accompany Ratchet and the injured back to the Ark. And make sure our captive is secured and locked in the private medbay room, unharmed, and start repairs. There is some information I would like to know, and I believe he can tell me.”

 

“Right-o, Boss Bot,” Jazz replied, with a cheeky salute. Skyfire landed a breem later, and Jazz herded the injured towards him.

 

Bluestreak walked up to the group as Jazz chivvied the wounded into the shuttle's bay. He stopped next to Optimus, and watched Ratchet load the unconscious Seeker into Skyfire's bay. “Do you think that Thundercracker will tell us where Prowl is? I mean, after he's repaired and online again,” Bluestreak wondered, voice quiet though his field teeked agitated and ever so slightly satisfied.

 

Optimus looked down at the gray Praxian. His normally jovial face was blank, and his optics cool as he looked at the blue jet- it made him look suddenly very much like his creator. “I don't know, Bluestreak,” Optimus answered, “But we will use all the options available to us to get those answers.”

 

Bluestreak nodded, then transformed and headed off after the rest of the Autobots making their way back to base. Optimus watched him with worried optics, before folding down into truck form himself and heading home.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I am a little late posting this, but here you go. Also, I expect to have chpt 14 up next week, but then I will be gone 2 weeks visiting family, so there won't be others up until after the new year ^_^


	14. New Fires

-=-=-=-

 

Starscream was fuming by the time they got back to their base. He and Skywarp were injured, and to top off the absolutely _wonderful_ orn he'd been having, Thundercracker was down and captured. TC was quiet in their trinebond- alive but offline. Skywarp was raging and upset, ranting about how he would have had TC if the Autobots had just minded their own business, while over the bond he fretted, and his field teeked with spikes of worry and anger.

 

“Shut it off, Skywarp!” Starscream yelled as they landed on the platform above the sunken Nemesis. Skywarp's ranting only poked at Starscream's own guilt and worry, and he couldn't listen to any more of it. “I don't want to hear anymore of you- _hrk_!”

 

Unfortunately, this yelling brought attention, and Starscream's voice was cut off by a large black hand wrapping around his throat and yanking him. Starscream dangled, hands scrabbling at the one around his neck and ped-tips barely touching the platform's decking. His optics were wide and frantic as he stared into Megatron's furious red glare. “You and your trine cost me my victory, Starscream,” the Decepticon leader snarled into Starscream's terrified face, rage lashing through his field.

 

“No! Mighty Megatron, my Lord, please,” Starscream pleaded, voice crackling and strained from the pressure on his vocalizer. “It wasn't our fault! We were following the battle plan. We did what you wanted! It isn't our fault that _they_ were not following _your_ orders, and keeping those wretched twins busy! It's their fault!” he rasped desperately, clutching at Megatron's arm, trying to hold himself up and gain a bit of relief from the grip. Energon trickled down his throat where Megatron's fingers dug in to the cables enough to tear them.

 

Megatron, growled, optics raking over the assembled mechs, lingering on Astrotrain's leaking knee, and Brawl's bashed armor. “Perhaps. I shall be lenient this time and give you the benefit of my doubt.” He squeezed, cutting off Starscream as he began to thank him, and caused the Seeker to emit a whimper that trailed off into static. “Oh, no, dear Starscream, don't thank me yet. You will still be punished. And I will not reward your incompetence by retrieving your trinemate. He can rejoin us under his own power, or not at all. And if I even _suspect_ that you have attempted to rescue him, I will tear your wings off you and nail them to the wall over my berth. _Understood_?” He snarled, face inches from Starscream's.

 

Starscream whimpered again, and nodded as best he could. Spots of static and darkness were beginning to creep into his vision as the energon was stopped from reaching his processor. “Ye-ssssk Mi-gkkty Meg-g-g-atraaaaaahn” he croaked, vocalizer struggling to form the words under Megatron's relentless grip.

 

Megatron grunted, and dropped the white Seeker to the deck, kicking Starscream as he walked away from the jet. Starscream sat kneeling on the platform, reeling as the energon rushed back to starved processors. The rest of the Decepticons filed by, heading to the lift to descend to the ship. Skywarp hovered over him, hands reaching but not touching, trilling nervously. His field plucked anxiously at Starscream's, and a stream of ~Star? You okay? Should I help you up, take you to our quarters? Star?~ filtered through their bond. Starscream just looked at him dazedly, and nodded. The black Seeker gave a gusty vent in relief, and helped his trineleader up.

 

They had to wait for the lift to ascend again, and by the time it was back Starscream was steady and mostly composed. They entered the lift, and headed down. Starscream was determined to head to his quarters, drink a couple of cubes of the medical-grade they had snatched from the Autobot, and order Hook to come fix his wings. Those plans were blown off course the moment they stepped off the lift and saw Soundwave waiting for them, blocking the corridor.

 

“What do you want, Soundwave?” Starscream hissed, vocalizer still sore and voice still crackling.

 

“Soundwave: has offer. Suggestion: talk in Command trine's quarters?” Soundwave replied, stepping aside so the two Seekers could walk past.

 

Starscream glared at him suspiciously for a klik, then shrugged. “Very well. We were headed there anyway. I suppose we can see what this offer is, and if it has any worth,” he rasped, as they walked past to lead the way to their habsuite. He ignored Skywarp's frantic poking over their bond, merely telling the other Seeker to hush and wait and be silent, and for Primus' sake to keep his thoughts guarded. Worries enough of his own occupied his processor, he didn't have time to coddle Skywarp. He was pretty certain the Host mech was offering help for Thundercracker, but... well, it wouldn't hurt to be vigilant in any case.

 

They arrived at their quarters with Soundwave in tow, and entered. Skywarp headed towards Starscream's berthroom after a not-so-subtle push sent him towards it, with orders to find the medkit. Starscream opticked Soundwave critically, wondering if the Host had his brats docked or not. It was always hard to tell. Either way, what Soundwave knew they generally knew, and they weren't to be underestimated.

 

They stood awkwardly, sizing each other up until Skywarp jogged back in, medkit in hand. With a sneer, Starscream gestured to the chair, while he pushed Skywarp onto the couch. “Patch up my wings as best you can while we talk,” he ordered the black Seeker, sitting next to him and turning his back to him. “Well, Soundwave, we are here and waiting to hear about this 'offer' you have for us,” he said, as Soundwave sat in the chair. It was just a bit too small for the big navy blue mech, and Starscream smirked to see Soundwave squeezing into it.

 

Soundwave regarded them silently for long moments after he got himself comfortable. He knew well how uncomfortable his facemask, visor, and purposefully blanked EM field could make others, and waited until the Seekers' wings began to twitch with unease before he spoke.

 

“Offer: Soundwave saves Thundercracker. Soundwave: keeps Megatron from knowing, makes rescue look like escape. Seekers: give something to Soundwave as payment,” Soundwave finally said in his multi-toned voice.

 

Both Seekers tensed, wings rising. Flickers of apprehension laced their fields. They glance at each other and looked back to Soundwave, optics intense. “Well, that would depend on _what_ exactly you would want as payment, Soundwave. There is only so much we can give, you understand,” Starscream sniped, suspicious and not hiding it.

 

“Soundwave: wants sparkling,” he stated, and watched as the Seekers panicked and instinctively became defensive. Starscream sputtered protests, and Skywarp jumped up, snarling aggressively. He amused himself with their reactions for a few kliks before elaborating. “Soundwave: wants _own_ sparkling. Soundwave: aware of Autobot Prowl, of heat and sparkling. Payment for silence, for Thundercracker's rescue: a sparkling for Soundwave during one of your trine member's next heats.”

 

His announcement was met with snarling faces and jet engines spinning up to a thunderous growl in fury. “ _How dare you_!” Starscream snarled, stepping close to Soundwave. “I will _never_ barter my trine's sparklings away! Certainly never for such baseless accusations, and I will not stand here and-”

 

“Accusations: not baseless,” Soundwave interrupted, and proceeded to replay several soundclips. All of them were snippets of conversations the trine had while in their habsuite, and all of them were damning. Mentions of sparklings, sneaking off, and worst of all Thundercracker's treasonous declarations. Silence fell as the Seekers stood there, stunned.

 

Skywarp panicked, creator protocols screaming to run, grab his mate, and hide. He was only stopped from warping out when a vise clamped down on his mind, and a large navy blue hand grabbed his arm. He stared at Soundwave, standing so close. He hadn't even seen the Host mech move.

 

Starscream leveled his null rays on Soundwave and powered them up. Soundwave stared at Starscream as the hum of activated weapons filled the air. “Attacking: unadvised. Soundwave: has evidence back-up, and will send it to Megatron if attacked. Ravage: ordered to tell Megatron if Soundwave is deactivated,” he warned as he and Starscream stared at each other, furious optics to unrevealing visor. He could practically see the gears turning in the conniving Seeker's processor. In fact, he could even catch glimpses of Starscream's thoughts, the shock of the situation obviously effecting the trineleader's ability to shield his mind.

 

The stand-off lingered, and Soundwave decided a push was needed. “Choice: Soundwave as your ally or enemy. Ally: mutual benefit. Enemy: trine will suffer,” he summed up, his unique voice making the stark words all the more potent. Soundwave had the power here, and all of them knew it.

 

Starscream's field flickered, then went still, and he narrowed his optics. Slowly he stepped away from Soundwave, pulling Skywarp with him and away from the boxy mech's grasp. Starscream made a show of dismissing Soundwave for the moment, clicking at the upset Skywarp disapprovingly and settling him back onto the couch. He sprawled himself beside his trinemate, movements deliberately graceful yet casual. He looked at his wings, making a moue at the state of them, and grabbed the medkit. He began to fix what spots he could reach, and glanced at Soundwave from the corner of his optic. A nudge along their bond got Skywarp to resume work on the other wing, with promises to fix Skywarp's wings as soon as his own were done. Skywarp's auto-repair had already stopped the energon bleeds anyway, and all the blaster holes were fairly neat, and in non-critical spots. Starscream's wings, on the other hand, were still a mess- bleeding had stopped but plating was shredded, wires exposed, sensors offline and broke, and one strut was even slightly bent. It was a miracle he'd managed to fly back to base. He would definitely need to have Hook see to some of it, it was more than he could fix even with Skywarp's help. Damn that yellow-plated pit-spawned demon.

 

“It seems to me,” Starscream mused after a breem or so of almost ignoring the mech looming over them while they patched his wings, “That you are being far too generous with this deal. I wish I could say that you are the one getting more out of it, that it is unfair for us, but I can't. And while I will grudgingly take you up on it, I am curious- why _my_ trine? Is it just the opportunity, the chance? Surely you can get sparked up by anymech if you are pining for a sparkling that much. What reason would you have to wait for one of our heats- which very well may not happen until the war ends- if you just want to kindle?”

 

“Starscream: misunderstands. Soundwave: will sire, not carry. Soundwave: Host. Host mecha: unable to carry, system space is used for docking cassettes. Seeker would carry: Soundwave supplies transfluid to influence sparkling while carried,” Soundwave informed the Seeker so nonchalantly sitting in front of him. He was rather amused when both Seekers turned to him with wide optics. Surely his demands had made it rather obvious what was expected? Perhaps not, if their stunned expressions were anything to go by.

 

“You expect one of us to carry? Why in Unicron's name would we want do that, you sparkless, over-clocked excuse for a radio!” Starscream screeched, waving off Skywarp's attempts to shush him. “And why would we ever let you push your coding influence on our sparkling, even if we did?”

 

Soundwave merely stared back, unaffected as ever. “Reminder: ally, or enemy. Sparkling: payment for Soundwave's silence, for help. Sparkling: to be _Soundwave's_ \- will care, provide, _influence_ as much as desired. Soundwave: willing to help you now, wait for heat later- command trine is desired because trine is strong, intelligent. ... Or: Soundwave goes to Megatron,” he stated, field teeking his willingness to do either option.

 

Starscream slumped almost imperceptibly, looking to Skywarp and reaching for him over their bond. Skywarp just shrugged. With a sparkling on the way he was unlikely to be the one to go into heat next, as raising a bitlet would hold it off. So in a way, it was up to Star and TC if they took this offer. After all, they would probably be the ones carrying. Skywarp sent all the support and faith he could back, trying to convey that he would follow whatever Starscream decided.

 

Starscream searched his processors for a few more kliks before sitting up as straight and imperiously as he could. “Very well, Soundwave. We accept your offer of an... alliance. A chance to kindle with us in exchange for your silence and your help retrieving Thundercracker. But! But- I want help in ending this war as soon as possible. I will not raise a sparkling in such danger.” He stared at Soundwave, daring him to dispute that last caveat.

 

Soundwave merely nodded. “Soundwave: accepts, will comm when more details are available.” With that, he gave a small bow of his head, and left.

 

Skywarp went over and locked the door behind the communications mech. Leaning against it he looked at Starscream. “Are we really doing this?” he asked, wings dropping down behind him.

 

“What choice do we have 'Warp?” Starscream asked tiredly. “Right now Soundwave has all the data-chips, and he knows it. But he agreed to help us too, to end the war. And you _know_ what needs to happen for that to come about.”

 

“What do you mean, Star?” Skywarp asked, apprehension curling through his lines. He walked back to the couch, watching Starscream as he sat back down beside him.

 

~It means, dear Skywarp, that Megatron can't _win_ ,~ was the unspoken reply, resolution underlying the thoughts.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry I got this up a day late. I suppose you might forgive me, since I put up my little holiday special at the beginning of the week, eh? ^_^
> 
> Again, reminder that the next two weeks will not have updates, but I will resume posting after the new year.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back, and sorry for the wait. Meant to get this out end of last week, but things were still winding down from the holidays. 
> 
> Anyway, here it is, and regular updates should continue. ^_^

-=-=-=-

Thundercracker groaned. His entire frame hurt. Aches and pains filtered through his groggy processor, and notices lit up his HUD. He onlined his optics and tried to unshutter them, but bright light seared his visual feed, and he closed them again. What in Primus' name had happened?...

 

Memory files finally booted up, and supplied the answer. Right, those pit-spawned twins had done their aggravating jet-jitsu, or whatever it was called, and he'd crashed. Well, his trine must have gotten him back to the Nemesis, because he'd been repaired- quite extensively too, from the readings on his HUD. He didn't think Hook even knew how to fix that particular sensor suite, Starscream usually had to do that for the fliers. And why was his weapons systems and comms still offline?... Intending to scratch at an itching weld as he puzzled, Thundercracker tried to move his arm and found he couldn't. It had been restrained. In fact, he found out as he tested all his limbs, he had been completely strapped to the berth. Ah, scrap.

 

Finally unshuttering his optics, Thundercracker was unhappy but unsurprised to see orange walls instead of purple or gray. Oh, just smelt him now- he'd been captured. Although, looking around and seeing all the monitors and lack of bars, he appeared to be in a medbay not the brig. Perhaps he was of no use offline? Not exactly a comforting thought.

 

His musing was interrupted by the door beeping and opening. In stepped the red and white medic, with the Prime and a visored black and white mech. Thundercracker's spark constricted. He might only be a minor officer, but he still knew what the Spec Ops commander and TIC of the Autobots looked like. Being interrogated by a Spec Ops was never a good thing. He tensed as they came closer to his berth.

 

The medic went over to a monitor and typed at it for a moment. He checked the rest, and the various lines still attached to Thundercracker's frame before grunting. “He's repaired. There are a few systems not a hundred percent yet, so I'll be watching his status remotely. His weapons and comms are offline as per orders. You can ask your questions now. Like I said, monitors are watching his vitals, and I _will_ come back in if any of them go off,” he said warningly, as he turned to march back out of the room.

 

What on this mudball of a planet were the Autobots planning to _do_ to him that the medic was warning them that he would continue monitoring his vitals? Thundercracker's anxiety spiked strong enough that it traveled over the trinebond, despite him not sending it intentionally. Immediately he felt his trine respond- both of them sending worry, support, and questions. Thundercracker replied with what confidence and reassurance he could, even as he watched the Autobots warily.

 

A monitor beeped, and the medic stopped just before the door, and raised a brow. Going back over to look at the readout, he hummed thoughtfully. “Well, that answers that question. Seems they're a trine in more than just function, and if you want a private conversation with our guest here I'm gonna have to apply a dampener. Won't break the bond, of course, but will mute and fuzz it out,” he observed, fetching a few things from one of the rollcarts that had been wheeled into the room. He turned, holding the device and magnetic clamps. Thundercracker's field flared in panic and dismay before he caught himself and pulled it in as close to his plating as he could.

 

Prime and the TIC exchanged a look, and it was obvious a minor debate took place. Finally, the TIC huffed, and folded his arms, and the Prime turned his attention to the medic. “Not necessary right now, Ratchet. I will let you know if it becomes needed,” he decided.

 

“Alright. I'll leave you to it then,” Ratchet said with a shrug, and left the room.

 

Thundercracker couldn't deny that he felt quite a bit of relief knowing his bond wouldn't be blocked against his will, even as his trepidation increased when the two high ranking Autobots stepped closer. Prime stopped right next to him, close but where he could still comfortably see him, field neutral. It... wasn't terribly comforting, as the Prime towered over him. The TIC on the other hand... the little black and white mech sauntered around the head of the berth, and leaned against a monitor rack where Thundercracker couldn't see him. Thundercracker strained, trying to see him. He could teek amusement in the mech's field, and shivered. The mech liked to play games, and that never boded well- it certainly didn't among fellow Decepticons, and these Autobots weren't allies. His attention was brought back to the Prime when the big mech clicked his vocalizer.

 

“Thundercracker, as you can see, you are currently being held here, and have been for that last five solar cycles. You were severely damaged in our last battle. Our medic, Ratchet, repaired you. Now that you are awake, there is some information that I need from you,” the Prime rumbled once Thundercracker had focused on him.

 

After a moment of shock at being so damaged as to be offline for so long, Thundercracker poked Starscream via the bond, asking if it was true. The reply was confirmation and also a caution- they knew why the Autobots had taken him, but they didn't know how far they would go to get the information they wanted. Just because they repaired him didn't mean they wouldn't tear him up again.

 

Prime raised a brow as the same monitor beeped again, betraying the spark activity. “Will you tell me what you were communicating, or shall I call Ratchet it to place the dampener after all?” he asked when Thundercracker merely stared back at him.

 

“I was verifying the amount of time passed, is all,” Thundercracker answered, after a staticy cough reset his vocalizer.

 

“I trust they verified it as true?” Prime rumbled, and waited until Thundercracker nodded. “Then you will trust _me_ when I say this- I know that you have my SIC, and I will not let you leave this base until you have returned him.”

 

-=-=-=-

 

Jazz was frustrated, and he had to suppress a growl. They had been talking to Thundercracker now for two groons, and the Seeker wasn't giving them any new information. Oh, he had readily admitted they had Prowl, and that the Praxian had kindled, but other than that it was like they hit the Seeker's mute button every time they asked about location or for the other two Seekers' input.

 

After spending the rest of a joor trying to get something out of the stubborn jet, Ratchet chased them out. Apparently he needed to rest, and his self repair was still draining him. Thundercracker had looked like he was trying to fight off recharge, but it still frustrated Jazz. The Seeker was a prisoner, not an ally or a guest, so why should they worry if he was tired? Besides, if he was deprived of recharge they might actually get him to slip up.

 

But Optimus backed Ratchet, when he commed them with the idea of continuing, and followed him out the door as Ratchet bustled about the room. When they were far enough away that the Seeker couldn't hear them, Optimus turned to Jazz and asked “Why did you comm me and tell me to only tell the truth? Not that I had intended to lie anyway, but I am curious about your reasoning.”

 

“Gotta let 'im know we tell th' truth from th' beginnin'. Make it easier f'r us later when we offer 'im som'thin' in return f'r info. He'll believe we mean it, an' that we'll actually deliver. Or if we hafta lie, th'n he'll still believe us,” Jazz explained. What he didn't mention was that any threat made would also be more believable, but Optimus didn't need to hear that.

 

Optimus nodded, though he frowned when Jazz mentioned lying. He knew such things were necessary, and wasn't above using such tactics if needed, but it still made him uncomfortable. He walked with Jazz towards the conference room- having commed all the officers for a meeting to share what Thundercracker had given them, little as it was. Ratchet would join once the jet was in recharge, with a little sedation to help keep him under. The rest of the officers were already waiting in the room- minus Red Alert, who was joining them via comms. He adamantly refused to leave the security rooms or the monitors until the 'Con was out of their base.

 

They had just sat in their chairs and got settled when Ratchet marched in. He dropped into his chair with a huff, his field teeking tired and irritable. “Well, Thundercracker is out for a joor and a half at least. Repairs are done, and he'll be fine to move if you want to. Just please don't mess up all my work, yeah? I didn't spend five solar cycles fixing him just for you lot to dent him up again,” he reported, waving a hand while the other rubbed his white chevron tiredly.

 

“I vote we toss him in the brig, since he doesn't need the medbay anymore. No need for him to take up a room we might need,” Ironhide grumbled.

 

“Fine by me, but you had better make it the room we send the Aerialbots to. Otherwise I'll be dealing with glitched out Seeker before the end of the month,” Ratchet growled back, “And I don't want to have to deal with it, got it?”

 

Ironhide growled as well, but subsided into a low rumble of his engine when Optimus snapped his field at them, and gave a growl of his own. Red Alert's voice chimed in over comms before Optimus could say anything though. ::I agree- the brig is more secure, fewer mecha will have access to him, and I can keep a proper watch on him. Now that he is mended there is no reason not to move him, for our safety and his. There are too many hot-headed mechs who know that he is here, and why, to leave him in the medbay,:: Red Alert added.

 

“Very well,” Optimus said, looking at Ratchet and Ironhide. “When we are done here I want you two to transfer him to a cell.” They nodded, red helms bobbing in time with each other and making Optimus smile behind his mask, though he managed to keep the amusement out of his teek.

 

“Optimus, I wan' permission ta step up th' interrogation,” Jazz requested, breaking the small pause in the talking. “We've been withou' Prowl long enough, an' I know ways ta get a mech ta talk that won't harm 'im-”

 

“No, Jazz,” Optimus broke into Jazz' offer, voice firm. “There is no reason to do that yet. Perhaps if we can't get anything from him after a couple orn, but for now we will stick to merely talking to him.”

 

Jazz revved his engine in irritation, but settled back under Optimus stare. He slouched in his chair, arms folded, not caring if he looked like a pouting mechling. Optimus turned his attention from Jazz to ask Wheeljack about the science team's research and what repairs were up next for the Ark. Wheeljack replied and the rest of the meeting was mostly just the usual reports and updates. Jazz mostly tuned them out, letting a subroutine record and keep watch to alert him if somemech addressed him. The majority of his processor was turning over plans to get Thundercracker to talk. Oh, sure, he would play it Optimus' way for a little bit, but if the Seeker wasn't a little more forthcoming in the next few solar cycles... well, he wasn't Spec Ops commander for nothing.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 


	16. Seeing Smoke

-=-=-=-

 

For several days, Prowl was left to imagine the worst. He paced and fretted, running what-if's and worst-cases through his computer. Physical activity helped, and he had taken to performing extended combat training sessions, using a virtual combat simulator provided by his battle computer and fighting against invisible opponents until he was exhausted. It quieted all those nagging worries just for a bit, and was the only way he managed to power down for recharge. He almost reached out along the mate-bond, but couldn't bring himself to in the end. As relatively well as they treated him, Prowl just couldn't forget that the Seekers, that Skywarp, were the enemy. Asking for reassurance from an enemy, even via spark where lies were almost impossible, felt wrong- bond and sparkling notwithstanding.

 

Almost a week after his sudden departure, Skywarp came back. He surprised Prowl by rushing towards him the moment he popped in and grabbing the Praxian. Prowl stiffened and nearly hit him, thinking it was an attack at first, but Skywarp's field hit him a moment before they collided. It teeked of such _worry-need reassurance-lonely_ that Prowl froze, allowing the Seeker to hug him. Skywarp's reaction was extreme enough that he opened the mate-bond just to see what had effected the mech so. That bit of curiosity and openness was apparently enough show of care that Skywarp suddenly started talking. His words tumbled out in a rush as he ranted about the battle and fretted about Thundercracker, the bond adding nuance and elucidation to Skywarp's rambling recitation. It also shed light on why Skywarp was lonely- Starscream was busy, working on Megatron's latest scheme and trying to stay out of the leader's sight, and the rest of the crew was avoiding the two Seekers. The command trine was out of favor right now, and Skywarp- being only a tiny step above a grunt- was shunned so that Megatron's disfavor did not spread.

 

Prowl had no idea what to do. He wasn't good when it came to comforting even the mecha he considered friends and family, let alone an enemy-maybe-ally-mostly-stranger. He awkwardly patted the Seeker's shoulders. When it became apparent that Skywarp was working himself into a tizzy instead of calming down, Prowl sighed, and employed the tactics that had best worked for calming Bluestreak when he had been younger and still prone to fits of anxiety.

 

Wrapping both arms firmly around the quivering Seeker, Prowl hugged Skywarp close. One hand lifted to lightly pet a wing, and he began to purr his engine in a comforting manner. When this only made Skywarp clutch him tighter, claws scritching across his back, and made the Seeker's vents hitch and stutter, as a whine rose from his turbines while distress flared through his field, Prowl started humming.

 

Humming had always been the last-ditch tactic for settling Bluestreak. Prowl began a simple but lovely little repeating melody, a slow and steady beat that always worked to sooth Bluestreak's spark and slow his venting. The melody suited Prowl's smooth tenor, and added a richness to the little song. It worked for the jet as it had for Blue, catching Skywarp's attention. Soon he calmed, wings drooping while field and vents smoothing out.

 

Prowl continued for a half a breem, before tapering to silence and gently clicking his vocalizer. Skywarp reluctantly released Prowl, a faint hint of embarrassment floating through his field along with the barest tinge of gratitude. Prowl clicked his vocalizer again, as the embarrassment on both sides rose. After a few kliks of standing there awkwardly, Prowl turned and retreated to the berth. He sat down, and waved his hand vaguely at the rest of the berth. Skywarp took it as the invitation it was and went over to sit. They looked at one another for a bit before Prowl twitched his doorwings and looked away, then spoke.

 

“Well... I am glad that you came to tell me what has happened,” Prowl began, somewhat unsure of what to say. “I am... sorry to hear that Thundercracker was injured. It is obviously making matters even more difficult for your trine.”

 

“Yeah, you could say that,” Skywarp muttered, picking at the berth covers.

 

“I... don't know how much comfort this will be,” Prowl began, reassurance strong in his field, “but as an Autobot officer I can assure you that Thundercracker will be repaired. With Ratchet looking after him, he might even come back to you in better condition than he was in before the last battle. While his visit is not exactly by choice he will be treated as a prisoner of war under the Iaconian Treaty. Though he may not be _comfortable_ exactly, he will not be mistreated.”

 

“Really?” Skywarp pressed, skeptical. “I mean, this is war, and treaties and rules and stuff tend to get ignored. I've heard some stories. Never been a prisoner myself- usually if I can't fly I can still 'warp, and you 'Bots didn't get a way to stop me until the last few vorns.”

 

“Yes, really,” Prowl answered. “I won't pretend that some of the stories aren't true, but it _is_ against the rules. Any Autobot that breaks the rules of conduct with a prisoner will be punished. Thundercracker will even be fueled well.” Prowl sighed. “I rather wish I could trade places with him. Even as a prisoner he will get nice strong geothermal blend energon, and right now I am rather craving that.” He glanced at the solar converter and shrugged his doorwings. “As sweet and pure as the solar energon is, I am getting a little tired of it.”

 

Silence descended again. Several breem passed. Prowl was just beginning to think that Skywarp was going to remain silent for the rest of the visit when the jet shook himself, rattling his plating, and looked up. “So, anyway, I can't be out too much longer. Do you need anything? I mean, well, other than a merge for the sparkling?” Skywarp asked, glancing around.

 

“Aside from the drive I was told I would get?” Prowl asked, raising a brow as Skywarp suddenly looked somewhat sheepish. “If you could perhaps bring me a novel or a game? It gets very tedious with nothing to do here. And if I could have another shower before you leave, I would be grateful,” Prowl added.

 

“Ah, right,” Skywarp hedged, rubbing his hand over one cheek vent. “Um, maybe next time? You'll get a drive I promise! It's just that Screamer's busy, and I know he'd have my bolts for ballast if I took you by myself. But you can use the washrack, sure. Uh, I'll have to cuff you again though, okay?”

 

Prowl waited for Skywarp to move towards him, now that they had worked out what they were doing, but the black and purple Seeker just sat there, absently flicking his cheek vent's flaps. Skywarp hadn't been this hesitant since his first visit. It seemed the emotional display had thrown him off his usual course- not that Prowl could blame him. Internally shrugging, Prowl decided to move things along.

 

Prowl reached over and tugged on Skywarp strongly, while laying back. The Seeker squawked in surprise as he fell to the side, ending up with a hand on either side of Prowl and leaning over him. Skywarp's faceplates heated as Prowl gave him a raised brow ridge.

 

“You said you were pressed for time, yes?” Prowl asked archly. When Skywarp nodded his head and muttered something in the affirmative, Prowl reached up and stroked his white fingers over the cockpit glass suggestively. “Then shouldn't you open up?”

 

Skywarp shivered, the words and the hands on his chest raising the heat in his frame. He unlocked his chestplates, and heard the echo of Prowl's lock disengaging as well. Their plates opened at the same time, crystal chambers swirling open, sparks shining bright. Tendrils of spark energy laced together and lead the way as they pushed their sparks together.

 

The pleasure was something Prowl was sure he's never get used to. The feeling of melding and merging was just so... right, even if it was only done for the sparkling's sake and not out of affection. He could feel Skywarp's _almost_ agreement. ~It's even better when you really do care for a mech,~ Skywarp explained, and shared a snapshot of the emotional connection he felt when merging with his trinemates. It dazzled Prowl, even second hand, and made him yearn. ~My carrier told me that carriers feel that kind of connection with your sparklings, without ever having to merge... Is it true?~ he asked, a hesitant innocent kind of curiosity behind the question.

 

~I think your carrier must have been right. This is what I feel for the sparkling,~Prowl replied, sending over the feelings the sparkling orbiting his spark elicited. There was love, and closeness, a faint brushing of a new bond- a connection that only got stronger as the newspark grew and strengthened. ~I cannot hear them yet, but our sparks are always together, always touching. Perhaps that is what your carrier meant,~ Prowl mused.

 

~Yeah,~ Skywarp said, wonderingly. But hidden behind those feelings came flitterings of something else, something that Prowl tried to see. The thoughts of sparklings had brought something else to Skywarp's mind and his spark, and Prowl was seeing just hints of the conflicted feelings this matter brought Skywarp.

 

Prowl pushed just a little closer in the merge, but Skywarp realized how open he was being and narrowed the connection to merely share their physical pleasure once again. But not soon enough. Prowl caught glimpses of something to do with Soundwave, the trine, sparklings, and most interestingly of Starscream's resolution. Prowl narrowed his own connection to hide the sudden flare of interest. He would have to analyze that bit of information later. For now, he concentrated on the merge.

 

Attention once more on increasing their charge, the pace of the merge quickened. They pulsed energy, volleying it back and forth, the peak of each wave cresting higher and higher. The pleasure rose with the rising waves, and Prowl moaned, both aloud and through his spark. Skywarp gave an answering moan, and pushed even more charge into their efforts. That next pulse was enough, and overload hit them, crashing through their frames and gathering in their sparks. Prowl's spark felt full and heavy as the energy was pulled there, feeding the sparkling happily spinning around it.

 

Skywarp lifted himself up so that they could close their chestplates, and flopped over to the side with a groan. Their plates ticked faintly as they cooled, and their engines settled from a racing thrum to a gentle purr. Prowl enjoyed a few moments to just feel, unwilling to move or speak just yet.

 

They lay there until some energy came back. Skywarp huffed through his vents and sat up. He stood up beside the berth and stretched while Prowl slid off the berth to stand next to him. Prowl held out his arms, and Skywarp put the stasis-cuffs on him, then took off the collar. A quick but thorough wash for both of them, which Prowl greatly appreciated, and then a quick buff and dry followed. As soon as they finished, Skywarp chained Prowl back up and took off the cuffs, then helped himself to the energon converter. There was a brief, awkward goodbye from Skywarp and a reminder from Prowl about the promised drive, and then Skywarp vwopped away.

 

Prowl sighed. As happy as he was to learn that no Autobots had been gravely injured, he couldn't help a small twinge of worry for the crashed and captured Thundercracker. It felt wrong to be concerned for the welfare of an enemy, but the blue Seeker had been polite and almost friendly the few times he had accompanied Skywarp to this little refuge. And yet, he also was happy, because he knew that this was the best chance for the Autobots to find and rescue him. It was the same kind of feeling that tripped him up every time he willingly opened his spark-chamber for Skywarp- his creator coding sang with reassurances and delight at a willing and giving mate, while his battle computer and memories screamed that this was an enemy to whom he was exposing himself. But he would do it again and again for the sake of his sparkling.

 

Sighing again, Prowl pushed the dichotomy of his feelings to the back of his processor and lay down. He set a reminder to puzzle over the tantalizing bits of information he had seen during the merge and feed them into his battle computer in the morning when he woke. With most of his worries relieved and rather relaxed after the merge and wash, Prowl was soon in recharge.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Several days passed before Jazz got fed up. Thundercracker wasn't saying anything! Well, he was, but not about what Jazz wanted to know. All of the interrogations with Thundercracker were the same- the Seeker would answer their questions, but any mention of his trine or Prowl and zip, nada, nothing. Jazz tried just about every way he could to trip him up, to cajole him, to convince him, to threaten him, but nothing. They had learned a few things, true- the latest Decepticon plans, Megatron's Tarnish origins, a few bits of various Decepticon's backgrounds, confirmation that Megatron doesn't know about Prowl's absence and that the Seekers themselves were keeping it that way- but nothing that they really wanted and needed. In fact the Seeker seemed to almost throw the data at them, like he was trying to distract them from questioning about Prowl, and that worried Jazz.

 

Jazz had requested again to use stronger methods on the Seeker, and Optimus had again said no, to wait. Thundercracker was being cooperative, and Optimus saw no reason to step up the methods just yet. Prime was also unhappy with the slowness and the lack of info on Prowl, but felt that stepping up the pressure right now would just cause the Seeker to clam up even more. He felt they should let their actions give Thundercracker a measure of assurance- that they wouldn't harm him out of hand if he cooperated- and try to help build a trust. Impatience and worry pushed at Jazz' spark, and he argued with Optimus for nearly a groon, before the Prime kicked him out of his office with the warning that if he brought it up again the interrogation would be given to Mirage and Red Alert. Backing down, Jazz had played by the rules for a few more days. But when they got no further, Jazz decided to take matters into his own hands.

 

So now Jazz was sneaking through the Ark in the middle of the night, headed to the brig to have a special chat with Thundercracker. Oh, there wouldn't be any damage it wasn't that kind of chat, but Jazz had something special to give the Seeker.

 

Bypassing the security feed was no problem for Jazz. A loop of footage of the recharging Seeker was easy to put in place, especially for someone who had helped set up the system and whom the system recognized as friendly. Red Alert was very good at security, but even he didn't know all the tricks and loopholes in the systems and programs that Jazz did. And Jazz hadn't shared all of them, either.

 

Jazz slipped silently past Cliffjumper, who was at the guard station just outside the brig watching the video feed of the cells. The video which was now running the loop Jazz had set up. He stalked to the Seeker's cell and peered in. Thundercracker was curled up in recharge on the narrow cell berth, back to the bars, wings hanging off into the air. A remote override deactivated the energy bars just long enough for Jazz to slip into the cell before lighting again. Soundlessly- helped along by his stealth mods and training- Jazz crept right up behind the recharging Seeker.

 

Swift as a striking metaviper, Jazz grabbed the back of Thundercracker's neck. A pulse from his hand magnets fritzed Thundercracker's systems, paralyzing the jet momentarily before he could move or make a sound. With ease born of vorns of practice, Jazz pried open his cortical port and plugged in his wrist cable in the few kliks he had before Thundercracker could regain his senses. By then it was too late, as Jazz was already in and manually locking down his ability to move or talk, slicing through firewalls with delicate precision.

 

Thundercracker was panicking, trapped in his own head. He started to reach out to his trine, but a sharp tug on his processor halted him, confusing him for a moment. =Ah ah ah, no talkin' ta your trinemates jus' yet,= a voice chuckled, echoing in his head. =Try again an' I'll hafta use the dampener I brought with me. An' I'll put it _under_ your platin' where Ratchet an' Prime won't see an' take it off. I have some questions I need answered, an' you've been avoidin' givin' me those answers.= Thundercracker shuddered, realizing now who his attacker was. =Yup, it's good ol' Jazz!= the voice chirped, sounding far too pleased and friendly for somemech that was doing what he was.

 

=Now, lessee about those answers, hm?= Jazz crooned, before beginning to dig and push as he asked questions. Thundercracker reeled under the bombardment, his own senses turned against him as Jazz hacked his sensory feeds, leaving him off-balance mentally and physically. But even with this unique brand of questioning, Thundercracker remained mute on what Jazz really wanted to know. Pushing harder, twisting Thundercracker's perceptions even more, digging deeper into his processor, Jazz' frustration grew as breems passed.

 

= _Where is Prowl_?!= Jazz raged. Thundercracker cowered under the onslaught, and finally broke.

 

=I can't tell you!= he sobbed. =I _can't!_ =

 

Jazz paused. This was the first real response he'd gotten out of the Seeker since he started. =Can't, or won't?= he pressed, a warning underlying his words.

 

=Can't!= Thundercracker cried, pushing desperate sincerity at Jazz. =Coding, bonds, programming, oaths- it prevents telling to protect the trine and our mates. I can't tell you, because you are an enemy, a threat! Even if I wanted to, I couldn't tell you because I physically, mentally _can't_!=

 

Jazz pulled back and mulled this over, while he watched Thundercracker regain a bit of his equilibrium. He wasn't expecting that. True, bonded mecha protected each other, but Jazz didn't realize Vosians had made it a _code-deep_ response. Rolling the words over and over in his mind, he narrowed his optics. =Because we are th' _enemy_ , you can't talk?= he asked slowly, poking Thundercracker mentally. An affirmative and the impression of a nod answered. =An' what if we were _allies_?= he asked next, focus completely on Thundercracker's reaction. Therefore Jazz didn't miss a thing as the Seeker stilled and his processor raced, a confusing mixture of disgust, hope, anger, and resignation tumbling through their connection.

 

Interesting, Jazz thought. A glance at his chronometer showed he was running out of time. He debated for a moment giving the jet the virus he'd intended to when he first came down here- one that would prevent the Seeker from initiating recharge and defrag- and decided that it would hinder rather than help his goals in the end.

 

=Well, tha' gives me somethin' ta work around. Why don't you talk ta your trine before our nex' session, hm? Oh, an' keep quiet about our little chat, yeah? Or nex' time I won't be so gentle,= Jazz purred as he slipped out of the jet's processor, patching the firewalls as he left. Setting a programmed delay on returning physical control to Thundercracker just before he backed out completely, Jazz disconnected his cable. He watched the still Seeker as he exited the cell, energy bars phasing off and back on under his command. He waited until the jet shuddered and moved, curling up tighter, before he left. Slipping back out of the brig, Cliffjumper none-the-wiser, Jazz reset the security feed and made his way back to his quarters, deftly avoiding the cameras. This complicated things, but at least now he had something he could work with. They just needed to convince the blue Seeker that they were allies, that working together was better for Prowl and the trine.

 

Now Jazz just had to figure out how to do that, and let Optimus know without revealing how he got the info.

 

 

-=-=-=-


	17. Spreading Smoke

-=-=-=-

 

Starscream was getting fed up. He stomped through the halls of the Nemesis, headed to Soundwave's quarters, intent on finding out if there was any progress on Thundercracker's rescue. And by Primus, Soundwave had better have something to report! Thundercracker had been in the Autobot's hands for just over an orn- not long by Cybertonian standards, but plenty of time to have accomplished _something_ when one was working on Earth time.

 

When he got to the door for Soundwave's quarters, he pinged. Then he waited a klik and pinged again. When there was no immediate answer, he pinged every half klik for almost twenty kliks. The last ping was just sent and received when the door opened. Starscream smirked up at Soundwave as the Host stood there gazing at him. While Starscream couldn't make out an expression behind the mask and visor, he felt the faintest teek of annoyance flit across Soundwave's field, and Starscream couldn't help but feel a little smug about that.

 

“Well?” Starscream asked, brow raised. Soundwave didn't say or offer any gesture, but he did step back out of the way and let Starscream push past him into the room, shutting the door behind them. Starscream looked around- this hab suite was much like his trine's, with a common room and berth rooms connecting. Soundwave's common room, however, instead of a computer had a television and a gaming console hooked up that his little brats Rumble and Frenzy were currently using. Starscream wasn't sure how the Host and his twerps had managed to get those down here in one piece, never mind hook it up, and he didn't want to know. Primus forbid Skywarp saw, he'd want a TV and games of his own- no matter if it was inferior human tech, Warp'd still find it amusing. Good thing he'd planned this meeting for after his trinemate had fallen into recharge. The black Seeker had spent most of the day flying recon, and then had spent even more energy visiting his Autobot.

 

Starscream opticked the two minicons pushing and shoving and heckling each other, and decided not to bother trying to oust them. It wasn't as if they didn't already know what was going on between their master and the trine. Besides, it was near the middle of the night cycle and it would look odd for the two to be wandering around with nothing to do. Instead he flopped onto the chair as if he owned the room, and glared up at Soundwave.

 

“You said that you would help Thundercracker,” Starscream said, getting right to the point. “And I am curious what progress you've made. So I came for a report, especially since I haven't heard anything from you since your little proposal.” He couldn't help the tiny hint of a snarl at the end of the sentence. He was still a little sore about being backed into a corner by the blue mech.

 

Soundwave folded his arms and looked at the Seeker until his sneer faded and he looked to the side. “Ravage: watching Thundercracker from inside the Autobot's base. Infiltration: managed earlier this solar cycle,” he intoned after letting the uncomfortable silence hang for a long moment. “Lazerbeak: just returned- was observing Autobot's patrols and schedules. Buzzsaw: now watching while Lazerbeak recharges and downloads intel,” he continued, resting a hand on his chestplate's clear door.

 

“And?” Starscream demanded. “Anything else? I know Thundercracker is in their brig, because they were foolish and sentimental enough to do nothing to block our bond. But he's been rather quiet on the matter of _how_ they are treating him aside from saying that he's unharmed and I want to know if this is true.”

 

“Ravage: sent first report a groon ago- observed no damage or mistreatment. Thundercracker: repaired, and seems to be well- currently he is in recharge. Autobots: seem satisfied with Thundercracker's cooperation,” Soundwave confirmed. “When rescued: should be mobile and able to assist with the escape.”

 

“Hmph, and when will that be, oh spymaster?” Starscream drawled, poking at the arm of the chair he'd commandeered with one claw.

 

“Attempt to reach Thundercracker soon: next raid will provide distraction,” Soundwave shared. He started to say something more when suddenly he stiffened, and his visor flashed as he communicated with his symbiotes.

 

“What?! What is it?” Starscream demanded, catching on to the sudden tenseness, and the fact that the two brats were watching the Host rather than their game.

 

“Jazz: is in Thundercracker's cell- has cabled with Thundercracker,” Soundwave relayed, voice slightly distant, even more monotone than usual, as his attention focused on Ravage's report.

 

Starscream snarled, and jumped up, stalking back and forth in front of the chair. He concentrated on their bond, but felt nothing, aside from a faint distant hint of fear and confusion. That was enough to tell Starscream that something was wrong, but only if he looked for it. Nothing else was coming, and he couldn't understand why Thundercracker wasn't reaching for them! Rounding on Soundwave he growled. “Tell Ravage to get that little slagger _off_ my trinemate! _Now_!”

 

“Negative: if Ravage attacks, could cause damage if hack is disrupted, could also get caught and ruin rescue plans. Ravage: Will continue to monitor, and contact when Jazz leaves,” was Soundwave's response.

 

Snarling in frustration and rage, Starscream continued pacing. Skywarp stirred in recharge and sent a muzzy questioning over the bond. He quickly booted up when he felt the return flow of anger and worry. Starscream filled him in, and in the next instant Skywarp was there, purple flash heralding his arrival as he reached for Starscream. The two Seekers held onto each other, each holding the other's arms, as they rested their foreheads and chests together.

 

Starscream calmed down slightly with the nearness and support of at least one trinemate. It also helped that now he had to be the rational one as he countered all of Skywarp's rash proposals for immediate rescue. No, he couldn't just warp there- the Autobots had shields and anti-warp containment. No they couldn't 'smoke them out'- they wouldn't get close enough to start a fire, and besides, TC was trapped in the brig. No, they couldn't go in guns blazing, because they'd be outgunned and caught. No, they couldn't round up a posse and storm the base, because Megatron would slag them- and would Skywarp stop watching those frelling human 'westerns' and getting stupid ideas from them!

 

They stayed like that for breems, holding each other close, with their sparks' bonds open, before they felt a tentative brush from TC's end. They ignored Soundwave as he reported that Jazz had left, and focused on their trinemate's spark. Thundercracker reached for them, but seemed oddly unsettled. ~Star? Sky?~ he called, voice soft and shaken.

 

~We're here, TC, we have you~ they replied, wrapping him up in love and support while his mind settled. When he had quieted, Starscream nudged him through the bond. ~What happened, TC? Soundwave said Ravage saw Jazz go into your cell and that he linked up with you...~ Skywarp growled and wrapped his presence protectively closer around Thundercracker at the mention.

 

~I'm alright. Yes, Jazz surprised me during recharge, I booted with him already cabled in. He demanded to know about Prowl, again,~ Thundercracker explained. They could feel his spark shudder across the bond. ~I've never been hacked like that before. He made it seem like I was falling and yet buried at the same time. Like my plates were shrinking and then too heavy. Stretched then compressed. Smelting while shatteringly cold. Like I was overcharged yet numb. Like-~ He cut off, spark pulsing wildly in fear for a moment before the presence of his trinemates soothed him again. ~I know it didn't last long- my chronometer said only breems, but it _felt_ like orns. All the contradictory data, how he twisted my sensor's perceptions... I think a mech would go insane if he did that long enough. No, I _know_ they would.~ Thundercracker fell silent for a breem, just resting within the bond, absorbing the understanding and strengths of his trine.

 

~I'm sorry TC,~Skywarp murmured after a while, a wave of guilt and regret following the apology. ~It's all my fault.~

 

~No it isn't, Warp,~ TC refuted. ~It wasn't anything you meant to do. I'm the one who's sorry- I told the fragger how to get more information, why I couldn't tell anything more. Now I don't know what he's planning.~

 

~You told him about the protective programming?~ Starscream clarified. TC sent the impression of a nod, and shared as much as he could of the interaction between him and Jazz. ~Hm. This could be good, or bad, depending on who is involved. They might try to win you over, or … well, more hacking.~ Starscream said, while TC and Skywarp shivered.

 

Thundercracker became thoughtful, replaying the last things Jazz said to him. ~I don't think the others knew what he was doing,~ he mused. ~I know he's been getting impatient. But Prime has been satisfied with what I've given them so far, and has refused to up the methods- I heard him arguing with Jazz about it, right before they left the room yesterday. That's why no dampener, no torture, no hacking- until tonight anyway... I think- I think if it's up to Prime they will try to win me over, win us over, get us as allies or more.~

 

Starscream perked up at that. ~Good. Encourage that. Let them think we are contemplating an alliance, and handing Prowl over.~

 

~What? No! We can't let them have Prowl! They will hide him, take my sparkling away! You know that the Autobots, that those stupid grounders don't know what having a sparkling means!~ Skywarp protested, distress flaring over the bond.

 

~We'd never let them take your sparkling, Warp,~ Starscream soothed, TC sending firm agreement. ~But it'll help us if they think we might give _Prowl_ up to them, while TC is stuck there at least. The appearance of capitulation, or of an alliance might make them less careful around TC, and make it easier to rescue him. And if Soundwave helps us end this war like he implied he would, it might lead to _real_ alliances.~

 

Mollified, Skywarp settled down, and they spent a few more breem simply connected to each other in their bond. But finally TC gently withdrew, exhaustion getting to him, and he slipped into recharge. Skywarp and Starscream unshuttered optics that they didn't realize they had closed and looked around.

 

Soundwave was watching them, visor bright, and Frenzy and Rumble were hanging over the back of the couch looking at them as well. Starscream immediately stiffened and stepped away from Skywarp, wings jerking up in a show of dominance to cover his unease at being so open and unguarded in front of Soundwave and his brood.

 

Starscream had just opened his mouth to say something when the twin cassettes snickered. “Guess things are going pretty good for ol' Thundercracker over there in Autodork central if you two can spend half a groon hugging,” Rumble said in a rather snide tone. Frenzy continued as Rumble laughed, saying “Maybe Ravage and the birdies should just come home, since you two are busy cuddling instead of trying to help.”

 

Starscream and Skywarp snarled and their engines roared in anger, but it was Soundwave's reaction that made his symbiotes flinch. Visor flashing and growling lowly, he took a step towards them, sending severe disapproval over their telepathic link. Backing that disapproval was a promise of punishment. Starscream began a threat, but Soundwave cut him off with a powerful rev of his own engine.

 

“Cassettes: will be punished for comments and misbehavior. Rumble and Frenzy: aware of the situation and aware they were highly inappropriate, to a mech who is both a superior officer and an ally,” he growled, visor fixed on the two visibly cowed little mechs. Frenzy's lips started to push out into a pout, but another flash of Soundwave's visor had him wiping the pout off his face and bowing his head.

 

Starscream still snarled, thought the obvious display of submission eased his anger somewhat. Skywarp was torn between still being upset and finding amusement over the twins being scolded like mechlings. If it weren't for Thundercracker's words still playing through his processor and echos of the shared feelings still rolling through the bond, Skywarp might not have even gotten mad. But even easygoing, prankster Skywarp drew the line at any suggestion that they weren't trying to get their trinemate back.

 

“Alright,” Starscream said after a few moments, watching the unhappy huddled Cassettes. “Send me the details of their punishment detail, and keep them away from me. If I catch them shirking their duties or lurking about I will make sure they _remember_ that I am their commanding officer in a way they will most certainly regret.” He raked his optics over the twins. Their flinch at his words and look helped to ease his irritation some more. Turning to Soundwave he huffed. “Keep them in line, and keep me informed about Thundercracker. And step up the progress on the rescue plan! I won't have Thundercracker in Autobot hands a klik longer than necessary, especially when they are no longer being polite hosts.”

 

With that, Starscream grabbed Skywarp, and with a commed command told him to warp them back to their quarters. Skywarp complied. Starscream released him as soon as they reappeared, and stomped over to their couch to flop down on it. Skywarp followed him, and sat beside him. He watched and listened to Starscream grumbling for a bit, then tentatively reached out to rub along the top of one white wing. When his hand wasn't immediately slapped away, Skywarp began petting and soothing his agitated trinemate. When the grumbles died away into intermittent purrs, Skywarp thought it safe enough to ask about something that had been preying on his processor.

 

“Star, when we were talking to TC through the bond, why didn't we tell him about the deal with Soundwave?” he wondered, and was quick to elaborate when he got a frown in response. “I mean, he has a right to know, since it effects the whole trine. I know we were more concerned with other things right then, it's just, I got the feeling you don't want to tell him _at all_...” Skywarp's voice trailed off as Starscream continued to look at him with a soft frown on his dark face.

 

“You're right, I don't want to tell him,” Starscream answered at last. “He's got enough to worry about, being trapped with the Autobots. And unless Soundwave steps up his game and actually succeeds with rescuing TC, then we might not have to worry about it _anyway._ After all, the agreement was to share a heat with him _if_ he kept silent _and_ retrieved Thundercracker. If he fails the rescue, I can get us out of this. He can threaten to tell then if he wants, but I have enough information and power of my own to keep him quiet.”

 

Skywarp nodded and went back to caressing Starscream's wings. While his trineleader might be confident he can slip his way out of the deal, the black Seeker wasn't so sure. He'd seen and teeked Soundwave when they accepted the deal after all, and that kind of determination wasn't the kind to take no for an answer.

 

-=-=-=-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to clarify the timeline so I went through and worked it out, so you could see how long things have been and when they happened in relation to each other, just in case I was confusing anyone.
> 
> Week 1- the heat, Skywarp finds him. Kindle at the end of the week/captured  
> Week 2- Jazz & Mirage go to Nemesis, arrive 2 days after find Prowl missing, stay a week  
>  -Skywarp's 1st visit 4 days after capture, 2 days after J &M get there.   
>  -4 days later, second visit and Starscream fixes converter  
>  -next day J & M leave Nemesis, spend a day getting back to shore  
> Week 3- 4 days into Week 3 Jazz and Mirage stop at garage, arrive at Ark next day  
> Several weeks pass undocumented, Prowl is bored, Skywarp visits weekly  
> Week 7, about midway through- TC tells about past, he and 'Warp visit Prowl  
>  -Blue confronts Optimus, battle, TC is captured  
>  -Soundwave's proposal offered  
> Week 8- TC wakes up and Skywarp visits Prowl  
> Week 9- Jazz gets fed up and hacks TC
> 
> That is where this chapter takes place also, and next chapter will be taking place the next day.  
> So it's been nearly 10 weeks, half a decacycle, which is 10 orns(20 weeks). THey have managed to stay secret longer than I thought they would when I first planned this ^_^


	18. Gathering More Fuel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to get this out yesterday, but went to a convention over the weekend and needed a day or two to unwind. Finally got my head back in the story enough to write more, and remember that I meant to update, heh. ^_^

-=-=-=-

 

Jazz was caught in a bit of a dilemma. He knew how to get Thundercracker to open up- eventually, could take a bit of convincing, but he knew now it was still quicker than other methods anyway- but the fact he even had the knowledge was suspicious. Optimus was sure to ask how he figured it out. So now he had to find a plausible source for the information.

 

A bit of thought had him changing course from the medbay where he'd planned to look through medical texts, to the science labs. This was a flight-frame coding issue, so better to ask a fellow flier, right? Now hopefully he could maneuver Skyfire into the right conversation to get what he needed.

 

Peering into the lab that Skyfire and Perceptor shared- separate from Wheeljack's workshop which was next door behind a _very_ reinforced wall- he spied the shuttleformer seated at a workbench, busy fiddling with some project on the table in front of him. Perceptor, luckily, was elsewhere. He casually sauntered up to the workbench, and stood politely just beyond Skyfire's wingtip, waiting for the shuttle to acknowledge him while watching the scientist work.

 

“Would you pass me that hyper-dimensional molecular resonating scanner?” Skyfire asked after a breem of Jazz watching him poke and prod at the substances and samples in front of him.

 

Amusement curled through Jazz' EM field as he looked from the scientist to the assorted incomprehensible gadgets arranged on the table. “Uh, sure thing, Skyfire, but firs' ya needta point out which one tha' is,” he drawled. He grinned as the big mech blinked, and looked at him for the first time.

 

“Oh! Commander Jazz, I thought you were Perceptor,” Skyfire sputtered, coolant flushing through his systems in embarrassment, making him appear much cooler on the thermal readings Jazz' visor monitored. “I apologize, how long have you been waiting there?” Skyfire asked, turning to face the other mech. “Is there something you need?”

 

“Nah, you're fine, mech,” Jazz chuckled, waving a hand as if to shoo away the apology. “I was enjoyin' watchin' ya work. And ya don't hafta call me Commander- jus' Jazz'll do.” Jazz looked around, snagged a stool from another worktable and drug it over next to Skyfire and perched on it. “Didn't meanta bother ya, but if ya have a few breem, I got a question or two ya migh' be able ta help me wit'.”

 

“Oh,” Skyfire blinked again, then looked at his project. “Of course, I can help you. I am at a bit of a stopping point anyway, and there is nothing I am doing that will be harmed if I take a break.”

 

“Cool, ma mech! Anyway, I was wonderin' if you could tell me anythin' about Seekers and Seeker-kin and heats tha' might help me when it comes ta dealin' with our blue-winged guest down in th' brig?” Jazz queried, while studying one of the odder looking devices. He probably ought not poke it, but oh, it was tempting.

 

“Seekers and heats? Why?” Skyfire questioned, bemused. “Surely the Seeker isn't going into heat, not with how damaged and under-fueled he was... Wait, you asked about Seeker-kin, also. Does this have something to do with our missing SIC?”

 

“Ah, smart mech. Shoulda guessed a fast processor like yours'd make th' connection,” Jazz said, ruefulness only half feigned. He'd intended to tell the shuttle, but not just yet. “Yeah, it has somethin' ta do wit' it. He went on leave ta wait out his heat a while back,” Jazz explained.

 

Skyfire nodded. “Yes, I will admit that I noticed when he started it. And I also know that he was abducted and is now presumably sparked, and in the hands of the Seekers.” Large blue optics widened and he stared at Jazz. “The Seeker you captured is the one who took Prowl?”

 

“Uh, no, not th' one tha' took 'im, but he's trined ta the mech tha' did,” Jazz answered, puzzled at the sudden agitated teek of Skyfire's fields. They smoothed a little with the clarification, but still rippled with something almost like anger. “I hafta admit I'm curious as ta why ya seem so upset all a sudden,” Jazz observed, the light of his visor narrowing suspiciously.

 

Skyfire's powerful flight engines rumbled unhappily. He looked away and lowered his wings some to appear less challenging, but he couldn't stop the angry rumble or his teek. “Some of my reaction is coding- as a flier I am protective of sparklings and carriers. It is upsetting to think about mates being separated, as that is potentially damaging to the newspark and the carrier. And some of it is just flier culture- trines work together to protect and provide for a carrier-mate. So taking one of the trine means that the carrier has one less mech to care for them, to provide fuel, suppliments, influence-”

 

“Wait! Ya mean tha' Prowl will have had all three of th' glitchspawn tryin' ta-?!” Jazz exclaimed, before Skyfire stopped him by waving his hands frantically and shaking his head.

 

“No! That's not what I meant. I mean, well, yes, if he were truly their mate, or willing. But it's the carrier's choice, _always_ , about who gets to provide influence for the sparkling!” Skyfire hurriedly explained. “In Vos it was common practice within a trine, or with a _courted_ mate outside the trine, but for a mating such as this it is usually _only_ the creators themselves who interface. Unless the _carrier_ chooses otherwise, only the sire will touch them. So in that respect I wouldn't worry for Prowl. The trine's coding will have to have been severely warped for that to change.” Skyfire watched Jazz, waiting for the small black and white mech to absorb that bit of info. He debated whether to share the next reason for his mixed emotions on this subject, as it was a bit personal, but decided honesty was best. “To get back to the original question, I am upset about the idea of one of the trine being captured for those reasons, but also because... they are Starscream's trine, correct? The Seeker you have and the one who took Prowl?”

 

“Yeah, they are,” Jazz answered, attention and visor firmly on Skyfire. The red and white shuttle's teek was odd, and he was shifting about like a mech with a secret.

 

“Well, that's another reason I will react in their defense. Starscream and I...,” Skyfire's voice trailed off and his optics dimmed. Looking away from Jazz, he shuffled a few items on the table. “Starscream courted me as a mate before he was trined, back when we were at the science academy together. And I accepted. Then the ice happened. But as far as my coding and spark are concerned, Starscream is still my mate, and that makes his trinemates mine as well, in a way.” A small wry, pained smile jerked at one corner of his mouth. “Of course, the events after I awoke from the ice have somewhat damaged and dampened those feelings.”

 

Jazz leaned forward, intently. “So that's th' real reason why ya don't wanna fight, an' only do so defensively, 'specially when it comes ta the command trine, eh?” he asked, visor and field watching closely, monitoring the shuttle's reactions. Skyfire nodded miserably. “Musta been hard ta choose th' Autobots over yer mate,” Jazz agreed, only to be surprised when Skyfire growled.

 

Wings high, optics narrowed, and field full of affront, Skyfire hissed out “I chose the Autobots over the _Decepticons_. It was my _mate_ that chose the Decepticons over _me_!”

 

Jazz held his hand up, and let apology tinge his field. “Sorry, Skyfire, sorry. I didn't meanta imply anythin'. I know wha' the report said, but the details were only shared between you an' Optimus. Didn't mean ta poke at a sparkin' wire.”

 

Skyfire deflated from his angry posture, wings sagging and optics dimming. “Yes, it is still a sore subject. Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I know that for Starscream it has been millenia since he courted me and that he has moved on, but in my mind and spark it has only been a few vorn since I accepted his court.” Skyfire looked at his lap, large white fingers rubbing at a spot in his thigh, and asked “Please just ask Optimus if you want to know more? I told him all the sordid details, and I'd really rather not talk about it right now, if you don't mind. I will give him permission to tell you.”

 

“Alrigh', I c'n work wit' that. I won't bring it up again unless ya do,” Jazz agreed, giving the shuttle a sympathetic smile. “But, right now I need some help, an' hopefully this ain't a painful subject, but you're th' only mech might know what's up- Thundercracker won't tell us anythin' abou' the trine, or anythin' about Prowl, an' that's wha' we need. Why will he tell us 'bout anythin' an' everythin' but those two topics?”

 

“Because coding is activated to prevent a mech from betraying his trine, mates, and sparklings. It's a protective measure. He literally _can't_ tell an enemy or threatening mech anything about them.” Skyfire tilted his head. “Do grounders not have that kind of protective coding?” he asked, curious.

 

“Nope,” Jazz chirped. Ah, thank you Skyfire, this was exactly what he needed to be able to go and talk to Optimus. “But th'n again, we grounders don't form trines. Well, 'cept f'r Praxians, but they're Seeker-kin. We also tend ta get newsparks from Vector Sigma, 'stead of doin' it the long way, so mates, sparklin's, an' bonds are more a private thing. I mean, unless we announce a bond, nobot knows, an' sparklin's don't necessar'ly look like their caretakers,” Jazz said with a shrug when Skyfire looked at him inquiringly.

 

“Hm, yes I can see that,” Skyfire mused, wings fanning slowly as he thought. “Trines are rather public, and if there is one Seeker you know there are two more bonded to him. I read once when I was researching for something else that the protective coding was implemented in response to a kidnapping. A wealthy Seeker was held captive and tortured until he gave up all the information on his trine and mates. The perpetrators then used that information to capture all of them and use them as leverage until the trineleader signed over all his wealth. The coding was created to keep that or anything similar from ever happening again. All adults were given the download patch, all sparklings received it once they hit their second upgrades, and all Seekers sparked after that had it in their core coding from their creators.”

 

“Huh, makes sense,” Jazz nodded slowly, then perked up. “But if it considers ya a mate, ally, or _sparklin'_ th'n it doesn't keep the mech mute?” Skyfire nodded, and Jazz nearly crowed in triumph. “Welp, thanks, ma mech! Tha' was jus' wha' I needed to know.” Hopping down from the stool, Jazz stood then put it back in its place. He turned to leave the lab, and had gone a few steps before a vocalizer click had him turning back to look at Skyfire questioningly.

 

“Will you, I mean, if you can, will you let me know what happens with Thundercracker? And maybe... let me visit him?” Skyfire asked tentatively when Jazz stopped.

 

“I'll see what I c'n do,” Jazz promised, then continued on out the door. Now he needed to have a chat with Optimus. And Bluestreak.

 

-=-=-=-

 

There was an entire mountain range of towering datapad stacks on the desk. Those on the top teetered on their stacks, placed there hastily and haphazardly, waiting for the opportunity to turn into an avalanche.

 

How in Primus' name did Prowl even keep up with all this clerical work? On top of all his other duties even. Optimus was sorely behind, as the ever-growing stacks around him testified. He turned his attention back to the one he was reading, and signed off on it, finally able to put it in the meager 'finished' pile. Picking up the next, he huffed through his vents. Slouching comfortably in his chair, he settled in to doing filing and reports all shift.

 

His plans were interrupted by a ping at the door not a breem later. Groaning, Optimus folded his arms into the bit of clear space on his desk and put his helm on them. Another ping sounded when he failed to answer, and he brought his arms up to cover his helm. Maybe if he didn't answer and hid behind all these stacks whoever it was would just go away and let him finally get these sorted...!

 

No such luck. After a few more pings, Optimus heard a code being punched in at the lockpad, and the door opening. Near silent pedsteps entered, paused, then walked around the side of the desk. A rich chuckle filled the air, and hands came down on his shoulders to rub at the tense cables there. Optimus groaned as tension that he didn't even realize was there eased. He let those hands work on his shoulders for a few kliks before sighing, and slowly sat up.

 

“I take it ya had a hard day?” Jazz asked, a sympathetic smile on his face and in his teek.

 

“Not hard so much as tedious,” Optimus replied, gesturing at the precarious stacks. “I have been trying to catch up with the datawork for three solar cycles now, and every time I come in here it seems a new stack has been added. I don't know how Prowl keeps up with it.”

 

“Well, f'r one, he only does his own datawork- not yours too, so righ' there's half of it,” Jazz offered, then leaned in added in conspiratorial tones, “That an' he doesn't take excuses- he makes his subord'nates do their own paperwork, 'stead of lettin' 'em send in unfinished an' messy reports.” He laughed as Optimus groaned and glared at the stacks. “I take it I was right an' ya've been havin' ta fill some in as ya go? Tha' why ya were sulkin' wh'n I came in?”

 

“I wasn't sulking, I was trying to hide from you,” Optimus growled back playfully. “But seeing as you found me, I take it you have something I need to know?”

 

“Yep,” Jazz practically smirked, and let some of his satisfaction bleed into his field. He explained what Skyfire had told him, ending with “-an' that's why I want your permission ta bring Bluestreak an' Skyfire in on th' questionin'.”

 

Optimus blinked his optic shutters, and stared at Jazz. “While I understand what you have told me, I fail to see where Bluestreak and Skyfire need get involved,” he said. “Bluestreak dislikes Seekers and is emotionally compromised in this instance and Skyfire wants as little to do with the war as he can manage while still being an Autobot.”

 

“But that's 'xactly why I need 'em! They c'n help me ta exploit the loophole in the protective programmin'. Blue' may hate Seekers, but he is also Prowl's sparklin' by adoption. An' Skyfire is pract'cally a non-combatant, an' tied ta the trine. They c'n use those connections ta get Thundercracker talkin',” Jazz explained with triumph.

 

Optimus nodded, but his optics were also sharp and focused on Jazz. “I see. Then yes, I will allow it. However!” he said, pointing at Jazz when the saboteur grinned and began turning to leave, making him look back at Optimus, “I expect you _and_ Ratchet or Ironhide to be there at all times while those two are talking to Thundercracker, and if there is any incidents involving them I will ban them from the prisoner. Got it?”

 

“Sure thing, Prime. I'll keep 'em in line” Jazz replied, with a saucy salute. He sauntered out of the Prime's office to the sound of Optimus' chuckle.

 

Optimus sighed. Well, that was progress in that situation at least. Now, he looked at the stacks of datapads, time to get some more progress done on these.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Bluestreak wasn't hard to find. If he wasn't in the rec room hanging out with friends or in the commissary getting a cube of energon, then he was on shift, in recharge, or at the shooting range. Since it was too early to recharge, Blue's shift had ended and Jazz had already checked everywhere else, that left the shooting range.

 

Sure enough, as Jazz approached the large room/cavern that they had reinforced and fitted out for target practice he could hear the reports from a high caliber rifle and the whirr of target drones moving. He leaned against the doorframe and watched Blue finish out his energy clip. It was rude to interrupt after all, and too loud with the blasts to bother shouting for him. It echoed something fierce in the room, despite what muffling attempts the 'Bots had made. The range had been made from a room near the front of the Ark which hadn't been too badly damaged in the crash, aside from a tear in the hull. However, the hole had let the Autobots see that beyond the room was a huge cavern. They had removed the damaged outer wall, and extended the room into the cavern, shoring up the rock walls and ceiling where needed and padded the floor in one half of it. Add some drones and holomatter targets to shoot at and fight against, and it had turned into a rather nice training practice area and shooting range.

 

Bluestreak finished up with the clip and reloaded, setting the used clip on the shooting stall's table to be recharged later. He looked over his shoulder and waved his doorwings at Jazz, who began walking towards him, while he clicked the new cartridge into place. Flipping the safety on the rifle and setting it firmly on his hip, barrel pointed towards the ceiling, he turned towards Jazz with a smile.

 

“Hi, Jazz!” Bluestreak greeted, doorwings bobbing cheerfully. “Whatcha doing here? I mean, I never see you in the shooting range, although I know you are a good shoot, 'cause I've never seen you miss, even though I never see you practice. I was practicing my moving targets. Guess I kinda need it since I – well, I kinda need it. Anyway- were you looking for me? I mean I guess you must have been, since I am the only one in here and you came in here, so you must have been looking for me. What's up?”

 

Waiting for the flow of words to stop, Jazz considered how best to broach the subject. He snagged on one of Blue's comments and decided that was opening enough. “Well, I needed t' ask ya ta do somethin' f'r me. Ya may not like it, but seein' as you are th' one gave us th' opportunity wit' your snipin'- ev'n if ya consider it a miss- maybe you'll be wllin',” he hedged, letting Bluestreak fill in the blanks. He wasn't dissappointed.

 

A klik passed as what Jazz said registered and was puzzled out, and then gray and black doorwings flared, and bright blue optics narrowed. “You want me to talk to Thundercracker? Why? I don't want anything to do with the Seekers, unless it's putting them in the dirt. Bad enough they did what they did during the war, but now they have Prowl. They stole my creator and have sparked him up and I am so mad at them I just want to shoot them and- !” Bluestreak broke off, vocalizer spitting static and field spiking with anger and more than a little hate.

 

He whipped around, doorwing nearly clocking Jazz in the helm, and began clearing out the booth he'd used. Setting his rifle on the table, he started forcefully stuffing cartridges into his subspace. Engine revving angrily, he started talking again. “I want my creator back. I want him safe and I want him back here, and by Primus he'd better not be harmed or I'll shoot them all out of the sky myself! And I want the bitlet here and I want him to grow up safe and happy. Oh, do you think he will have wings? I hope he doesn't, I want him to look like a Praxian. I don't really want him to be reminded all the time that he's related to -”

 

Jazz cut him off before he could get too far into the rant. “See, That's 'xactly why I need ya ta help me.” Bluestreak stopped talking and turned a puzzled look to Jazz. “Thundercracker ain't talkin' 'bout Prowl, or where they have 'im, or nothin'. An' he won't talk about his trine, either. I asked Skyfire 'bout it, since it seemed ta be a flier thing an' he explained it ta me.” Jazz continued talking, filling in what Skyfire had shared, and watched as Bluestreak made the connection.

 

“You need me to be Prowl's sparkling, and therefore related to Thundercracker by his trinemate's carrier-mate,” Bluestreak intoned, voice flat, while his doorwings twitched and quivered and his field went through a riot of feelings. “You want me to be friendly and play nice with the trinemate of the one who took my creator. You want me to acknowledge a relationship with very mechs who have destroyed my life over and over again and have brought me nothing but pain and you want me to call them _family_?!” By the end, Bluestreak was snarling, engine roaring. His optics flashed and his doorwings were set high and aggressive, as he took an angry step towards Jazz.

 

Jazz drew himself up and suddenly the easygoing mech fell away, revealing the hardened Special Operations Commander. He growled back, visor bright and narrowed and a frown on his face, and Blue faltered a little at the suddenly dangerous teek to the mech in front of him. Jazz pressed his field against Blue's, the full weight of his censure and his authority behind it. Bluestreak held his challenging stance for a few klik more, then shuddered and lowered his optics and doorwings.

 

Satisfied that the young Praxian would listen now, Jazz eased up the press of his field. He didn't return to his usual friendly demeanor just yet though. “Perhaps I shoulda explained this better. It's less a request an' more an assignment,” Jazz explained, voice cool and silky smooth. Bluestreak shuddered again and his doorwings lowered even more. There wasn't anything friendly about that tone. “I expect ya ta do what is necessary. Ya see, this isn't somethin' we can jus' pound outa him. We need ta become his allies, or we ain't gonna get what we need ta know. Now, I know ya c'n do this, I've used ya before as my friendly chatter-bot ta get mecha talkin' an' bring me intel. This ain't that different. You'll jus' be talkin' ta a Seeker is all.” Jazz stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I know ya hate Seekers an' I know ya have reason, but I need ya ta set that aside. If you don't we can't get your creator back, ya hear me?”

 

Bluestreak nodded, expression as miserable and conflicted as his teek. “Yes, Commander Jazz.”

 

“Good,” Jazz said firmly. Then the friendly easy-going mech was back, and Jazz smiled up at Bluestreak. “Don't worry, li'l Blue, ya won't be alone wit' the big bad Seeker anyway. Me an' Ratch' or 'Hide'll be with ya every time 'til ya get used to each other. Now come on, let's get some energon an' see what ev'rybot else is up to.” He turned and headed out of the room, a hesitant Bluestreak following a moment later, thoughts and feelings still a jumble. Maybe some energon and friendly interaction was what he needed right now after all.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 


	19. Smoke Signals and Hot Coals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is getting posted late, but when you see the enormous size of this freaking chapter, hopefully you understand. I couldn't break it up anywhere, and I got stuck on it a few times so it wrote slower than usual.
> 
> Also, I have eaten up all of my buffer writing, and need to knuckle down and work on getting more done to fill that buffer again. I get anxious when it disappears =_=;

-=-=-=-

 

 

The roar of Seeker engines flying over head brought Prowl's awareness up out of the stupor he had fallen into. Hope surged in his spark as he tracked the engine sounds. Skywarp had said that Starscream insisted on being here if they let him out for a drive, and he'd promised they would do so on his next visit. Seems the usually flighty Seeker had kept his promise. Good thing he was- Prowl had found the last week particularly hard. The need to drive and be outside had only increased. The last few days were bad enough Prowl was beginning to feel as if the walls and ceiling were pressing in on him. He'd taken to recharging more, and looping scenarios in his battle computer with absolutely ridiculous actions and permutations just to escape the feeling. _Anything_ to keep his mind off the frantic need in his spark.

 

The Seekers circled several times, and then landed outside the building. Prowl was waiting, standing by the berth when Starscream and Skywarp opened the large rolling door and walked in. He couldn't help the hopeful waggle of his doorwings, nor the way his optics fixed on that open door, the tantalizing bit of _outside_ he can see.

 

Skywarp cheerfully walked inside and over to the converter to top off before their flight, but Starscream stopped just inside the door. One look at the Praxian and any thought that the grounder might be faking it, or merely trying to attempt escape was squashed. Starscream sighed, a brief pang of something suspiciously close to guilt passing through his spark. Sky-hunger indeed. The signs were all there- twitchy plating, wings (in this case doorwings) desperately fanning and looking for stimulation, optics too bright and fixed on windows and doors. Better get the mech outside before he glitched.

 

“Skywarp, get your Autobot outside. But don't go farther than a few lengths from the door! I need to grab the jammer,” Starscream ordered, while he rose up to the rafters to collect the device. Skywarp nodded and hurried over to Prowl's side, swapping collar for cuffs, and leading him just a little ways outside of the building.

 

Prowl eagerly followed the black Seeker. Once outside he basked in the feel of the sun on his plating and the feel of the wind on his doorwings. He cycled his ventilation, and it felt like the first real in-vent that he had taken in days. As he reveled in the sensations, he followed habit and pinged all his systems like he would before any drive, cycling though and checking each one. Engine- running smooth. Coolant and energon pumps and their lines- hm, need to replace a few filters soon, but still good. Sensors- all in order and bringing in proper detail of his surroundings. Battle computer- taking in information and waiting to give a sit-rep like it should be. Weapons systems- offline at the moment. Communications... Wait. He was getting a faint signal on the Autobot's frequencies, instead of the static and nothing of before.

 

Not letting his sudden discovery show in his frame language, Prowl quickly gauged the distance between himself and the jamming device that Starscream was already bringing down from the rafter. Taking one slight step farther, he sent a brief status update along the officer's frequency. It had barely connected, and he hoped been received, when Starscream brought the jammer close enough that it fuzzed out his communications yet again. Hm, even if it didn't get through, now he knew the minimum distance he had to get away from the device to allow a clear signal through. The tricky part will be engineering more opportunities during the drive.

 

“Here,” Starscream grunted, thrusting the jammer at Skywarp. “You follow your Praxian while he drives. I'm not going to hobble _my_ speed and enjoyment of this flight just to keep a proper leash on _your_ mate. Besides, if you have trouble flying that slow you can at least warp and hover.” Glancing at Prowl, he sighed and then stomped over to the black and white mech. He took off the stasis cuffs and held out a hand imperiously. “Give me your wrist, I will give you the course you can drive on. Unless you prefer to off-road, I suggest you stick to it.”

 

Prowl hesitated just a moment, but gave Starscream his wrist, port cover open. Starscream plugged in, dumped the small file, and was snatching back his cable before Prowl had finished nodding acceptance. Raising a brow ridge, Prowl inspected the file, ran it through all the usual checks for malware, and finally opened it. It was a map indicating where the building was and where passable roads were, and an aerial shot of an island. Well, that answered at least one question about where he was.

 

Prowl nodded again, flexed his plates, and stretched his limbs. “Shall I transform now?” he inquired, looking at the Seekers.

 

“Yes, yes, get on with it,” Starscream griped, before he ignited his thrusters and rose above them, arms crossed. “If you want this little joy ride, you'd better get started.”

 

Prowl wasted no time after that, transforming and settling on his tires. He revved his engine a few times then took off, accelerating hard. He heard Skywarp squawk in surprise at his fast getaway and Starscream yelling to get after him, and felt rather smug. He managed to get another brief message out in the small communications window he'd created, before Skywarp flashed into existence over him and blocked them once more. The message he'd compiled held a better update on his physical status, what information he'd gleaned from his environment about where he was being held- including a possible search area based on what little of the stars he could see through the windows at night, and what little information the Seekers had let slip. It was messy and hastily assembled and compacted, but hopefully it reached the Autobots and would aid in his rescue.

 

Playing up his rapid start as mere eagerness and enjoyment to be driving- not a hard feat as he truly felt such and let it thrum through his spark and teek- Prowl sped along the proscribed course. Following the suggested path, Prowl luxuriated in the feel of the road under his wheels and the wind across his armor even as he busily added more intel to his file about his prison. Now that he knew it was an island, he had to wait for rescue- there would be no driving away from this place. True, he could walk into the water, but without a better idea of where on the planet he was, he could end up walking for months. Not to mention that the oceans and their vastness interfered with communications, and the cold and crushing depths might harm his sparkling. No, better to stay here where at least he was safe and well-fueled.

 

Prowl spent quite a while driving fast along the circular course Starscream had recommended, with Skywarp keeping apace, before he got bored. Turning off onto the more broken roads, he began exploring and mapping out the less well preserved areas. The island appeared to be one that had seen use in what the humans called World War II, but had been abandoned and left to the elements. There were still remains of buildings and hangars and even some broken vehicles. Skywarp followed him as he explored, having to revert to root mode and hover at the much slower speeds.

 

Prowl busily cataloged his surroundings, but more than a little bit of his sensors and processors were trained on Skywarp. Something about having the Seeker flitting about after him was setting carrier protocols and deep seated coding alight. Revving his engine playfully, he darted to the right, watching as Skywarp startled then followed. He darted to the left. Skywarp followed. He darted right again, then braked swiftly and turned his wheels, swinging his aft in a tight circle and zoomed back the way he had come. Hearing Skywarp's engine pick up and feeling amusement over the mate-bond, Prowl sent his own amusement back and picked up speed. Behind him, Skywarp transformed, and the roar of jet engines quickly began to catch up to him. Delight swept through Prowl, and he lead Skywarp on a merry chase, zigzagging and speeding through the human ruins. Normally Prowl would be the pursuer, not the one fleeing, and the change in position made him work to keep his lead, using his body and battle computer in new and challenging ways that made this... fun.

 

Prowl turned out on to the flightline, tearing down the pitted and cracked runway. He knew as soon as he heard Skywarp's engines rise in pitch that the end of the game was approaching- there was no way he could outrun a flying Seeker in a straight line- but he didn't mind. Skywarp flew over him, past him, and landed, transforming right in his path. The chase had revved him up in more ways than one, and it was with nothing more than lustful anticipation that Prowl skidded to a stop in front of Skywarp. He transformed the moment he was stopped, and grinning at Skywarp, turned to resume running. Skywarp let out a whoop and tackled him before he could get more than a few steps away.

 

Both of their fields were thrumming with lust and excitement. Skywarp looked down at the squirming Praxian under him, before he swooped down and captured Prowl's mouth in a kiss. Prowl allowed it for a few kliks, before pulling away and executing a maneuver that flipped them both and put the Seeker under him. The black Seeker made a startled noise, but settled in with a grin when Prowl straddled his waist.

 

“Well, mate, you caught me,” Prowl purred, field tangling with Skywarp's suggestively, while he held the Seeker's arms next to his helm, lacing their fingers together. “Let's see how good you feel when I have the sun shining sweetly on my doorwings, shall we?”

 

Skywarp moaned as a hot interfacing array rubbed against him pelvic plating and was quick to fold it away and allow his spike to pressurize. Both mechs cried out when Prowl sank down onto it, valve hot and drenched from the arousal the chase had brought. Prowl set a quick pace, rising and falling on the thick spike impaling him, seeking his overload. Skywarp rumbled below him, hips thrusting up in time. The Seeker pulled at his hands, still held fast by Prowl against the ground by his helm, and moaned when Prowl pressed down on them harder in response. Prowl chuckled and nipped at Skywarp's neck cables, enjoying the extra pulse of arousal in the jet's teek the action caused.

 

His knees scraped against the pavement as he rocked, leaving behind scratched paint, and Prowl didn't care. He let himself fall into the pleasure and satisfaction of the moment- his mate was fast and worthy, had caught him and was proving himself capable- and let the feel of the sun and wind settle his spark even as he chased his overload.

 

As revved as they both were, it didn't take long before overload crashed over them. Prowl shuddered and groaned, burying his face into Skywarp's neck, while Skywarp cried out, pulling his hands free to clutch the white and black mech to him. Prowl panted for a moment, before he brought his hands up to pet over Skywarp's cockpit, a questioning trill accompanying the movement. Skywarp crooned in answer as his plates slid apart.

 

Prowl's plates parted as well, and they merged. It was a lazy, mindlessly pleasurable merge. Neither did more than push the rising charge, and share the spark-deep joy of being under the sky and the lingering pleasure from their overloads back and forth until it crested enough to push them over into another. It washed over them in a gentle tide and left them lying together hazy and content to bask in the sun.

 

They had been laying there for a few breem when a shadow fell over them. Prowl brought his optics back online and unshuttered them to look up at Starscream standing over them. Skywarp didn't bother, just flopped a hand in his general direction and muttered “Hey, 'Screamer.”

 

“I can see that you enjoyed your... drive,” Starscream smirked, looking over the two spent mechs. Neither had moved from each other's arms, nor closed their panels aside from their chestplates. “Perhaps you should pull yourselves together? We need to get your Autobot back to the building soon. And I would rather some aspects of his frame remain a mystery.”

 

Prowl chuckled as he rolled off of a pouting Skywarp, evading grasping purple hands, closing his panels as he did. “A pity you feel that way,” he replied, “Your nanite influence would be wonderful for the sparkling.” He felt the ripple of surprise in Starscream's field at that statement, and even Skywarp just about strained a neck cable whipping his head to the side to look at Prowl. Confusion and a cautious wonder prodded at him through the mate bond from Skywarp, while Starscream glared suspiciously.

 

Prowl gazed back placidly, sitting next to Skywarp and waving his doorwings languidly. It was not surprising that Starscream should be so suspicious- even Prowl was a little shocked at himself for having brought it up so suddenly. Not the topic itself, but the timing. During the last week in his desperate searching for distractions, he had posed this scenario to his battle computer on a whim. He had thought it to be one of the many ridiculous and outlandish hypothesis he had proposed. To his astonishment, forging stronger ties to the trine by interface increased his chances of returning to the Autobots by 27%, and increased the possibility of swaying the trine to neutrality and/or the Autobots by 43%. Not to mention it sent Prowl's carrier coding into a delighted tizzy when calculating the traits and strengths and support that would be gained from all three of the Seekers.

 

It had taken longer for Prowl to convince his mind and spark that it was an acceptable option. But the pros outweighed the cons by such a significant margin that he couldn't ignore it, no matter how much he would prefer to do just that. The advantage to his sparkling and the possibility of alliance was too great. And if he could ignore their past deeds and enemy status, it was easy enough to admit he found all three of the Seekers very attractive and admired many of their qualities. It was just impossible to forget.

 

Starscream continued to watch him with narrow, wary optics- obviously trying to work out the catch- but Skywarp had sat up and was quickly becoming excited by the idea. Prowl could teek his growing delight, and feel the rising enthusiasm through the bond. He caught a hint of the edge of the Seeker's conversation over the trinebond, but not enough to make out more than that they were talking.

 

Deciding to clarify things, and perhaps put them in a light that would make the perpetually scheming Starscream more amenable to the idea, Prowl spoke up. “Perhaps you will be more inclined if I give my reasoning,” he began, watching the tri-colored Seeker. “I do truly want your trine's influence for the sparkling. All three of you are strong, worthy mechs, and I can see no disadvantage to giving the sparkling more of your coding and nanites. Also, with the three of you, it has a stronger possibility of being a flier. I also find you attractive. I have enough Seeker-kin coding that I enjoy the idea of a trine as mates, and having a Seekerling. And... there is, I admit, some strategic advantage to having close ties with some of the strongest fliers in either army.” That last statement was a bit of a gamble, but Starscream was savvy enough, and politician enough, to know that Prowl would have considered that angle as well, and not mentioning at least part of his reasoning there would be more suspicious than if he hadn't.

 

One brow ridge slowly rose over crimson optics as Prowl listed off his reasons. There was still a skeptical teek about the white Seeker, but Starscream seemed willing to at least listen now. Blue arms crossed over red chestplates and one hip cocked out in a sassy manner, as Starscream pondered the issue. Skywarp looked back and forth between the two of them, clearly wanting to add his opinion, but staying quiet like Starscream had ordered over the trinebond.

 

“You seriously want me to believe that you would be willing to interface with all three of us?” Starscream drawled, tone as full of skepticism as his field with a hint of condescension. “Of course, wanting the three of us is a bit of a moot point when one of my trinemates is captured and imprisoned.” Red optics narrowed again and his raspy voice hardened. “I might be more willing to believe you if Thundercracker hadn't been hacked, when you gave assurances that he would be treated as a prisoner under the Iaconian Treaty. Last I knew, hacking wasn't allowed unless there was an eminent danger to the base or the mecha within it. Got any explanation for that?” The low hum of turbines turning in anger came from both Seekers at the reminder of their trinemate's treatment.

 

Prowl was silent for several kliks. “...What?” was his less than intelligent answer. But he could not fathom how such a thing would have been allowed. “Prime would never have sanctioned that. I have no idea...” A faint connection sparked at those words, and his own icy blue optics narrowed. “It wasn't sanctioned by Prime, was it? Who hacked your trinemate?”

 

Starscream glared for a moment more, then huffed and let some of the tension leave his wings. “No, it wasn't. It was done last night, and it appears to have been done in secret. As for who, it was that infernal pit-spawn you call a TIC.”

 

“Jazz?” Prowl asked, surprised and a little confused. “But what could Thundercracker have known that would be worth hacking him for? He is only a minor officer, and wouldn't have any high level information.”

 

Skywarp snorted a laugh, and Starscream just stared at Prowl incredulously. “He was hacked because he is a part of this trine and they wanted to know where we are holding you,” Starscream spelled out slowly, as if to a sparkling. The 'what else would it be, you idiot?' was heavily implied in tone and teek.

 

“...Of course,” Prowl murmured, a little embarrassed by the obvious answer. Through the wave of cool embarrassment, a little thread of warmth curled around his spark at the thought of Jazz looking for him. Even though now he had to deal with the new complications and fall out from those actions. “Jazz is a friend. He has also always been hard to control, impatient, and somewhat driven by emotion. It isn't an excuse, but this isn't the first time he has defied orders to do things the... expedient way.”

 

“Indeed,” Starscream growled. A moment passed and then he relented, posture relaxing even more. “No use blaming you I suppose, since you aren't even in contact with them. And TC wasn't harmed... much. Perhaps I will agree to forget about the breach, if you are willing to remind your subordinate of the importance of such things as Treaties when you next see him.”

 

“Agreed,” Prowl replied, a slight irritated rev edging his words. Oh yes, he would most definitely be scolding Jazz when next he saw him. Speaking of which, why would Jazz go to the trouble of hacking Thundercracker? “I must admit, though I am loath to, that I am surprised that Jazz would do such a thing at this point. Why go to the extreme of hacking your trinemate when he could simply arrange a meeting or a trade through him? Why not make a deal?”

 

Skywarp scoffed beside him. “Because he _can't_ , duh!” He cringed a little after the outburst and glanced at Starscream, giving a little apologetic wiggle of his wings.

 

Starscream huffed, seeming to deflate a little as the air left his vents. “What my loudmouth trinemate means,” he began with a glare shot at Skywarp, “Is that they tried that. Multiple times. But Thundercracker is unable to do anything of the sort as long as you carry.”

 

When the white jet seemed ready to just leave it there, Prowl narrowed his optics. “And why would that be?” he asked, teek betraying a hint of disbelief.

 

“Because it's hard coded in, that's why!” Starscream snarled, patience suddenly gone and emotions still frayed from remembering their trinemate's distress. “Do _none_ of you pathetic grounders ever bother to talk to a flier, or research our culture? Surely, as a medical and coding issue, your _vaunted_ medic should have known this! It's a part of our history and is practically a chapter in and of itself! You are a carrier-mate for this trine, and as such Thundercracker is _incapable_ of betraying you, or us, by arranging anything that would hand you over to our enemies. He will deactivate before betraying us.” Another angry snarl escaped, and Starscream turned abruptly, and began pacing up and down the flightline. Skywarp made a sad sort of warble, but pushed confidence and reassurance through their trinebond anyway, trying to cheer Starscream up.

 

“I see,” Prowl murmured. He watched Starscream pace for a bit, and then when the jet had walked close again, asked “Did Jazz learn about this coding?”

 

Starscream halted and turned anger bright optics towards him. “Yes,” he hissed.

 

“Hm, well, then you can be assured that there will be no more hacks then, at least. Jazz is not one to reuse a method if it is sure to fail,” Prowl stated, voice calm and neutral. He still got a hiss and a wing rattle from Starscream, who started pacing again. “As for Ratchet,” he continued, raising his voice so that Starscream could still hear him, “He is the best medic one could ask for. However, he is not a coding specialist, nor does he have full experience with non-grounder frametypes, having worked exclusively near Iacon. There were even a few details of Praxian frametype needs that I had to tell him about. But for all that, he is amazingly talented and certainly knows more than enough to keep us all alive. He is also familiar with carriers and sparklings and how to keep both healthy and alive through to and after emergence. That is but one of the _many_ reason I want to get back to the Autobots.”

 

“Better him than Hook, anyway. Hook ain't too familiar with... with all that,” Skywarp muttered. “Not that he gets a chance to _get_ familiar, what with Megatron handing carriers and sparklings over to Shockwave,” he added subvocally with a shudder. He fluffed and resettled his armor, stretching his arms up over his head then paused mid-motion, taking on a sudden pondering teek. “I wonder how Soundwave plans to get around that, when it comes to the sparkling?” he muttered to himself quietly, rather forgetting there was somebot else close enough to hear who wasn't exactly trine, nor in on the deal.

 

Unfortunately, Prowl heard and his computer put it together with the half-overheard bits and pieces from their previous merge, and came to a conclusion. The wrong one. Prowl's sudden snarl and lashing, enraged filled field was enough to send Skywarp reeling for a moment. Which was just long enough for the furious carrier to jump him, and get a hold of a vital fuel line under his chestplate via the gap in armor under his arm. Cleverly hidden retractable claws sprang from Prowl's fingertips, prickling along the line he held with one hand. He grabbed one of Skywarp's wings with the other hand, newly revealed claws digging in to the plating just enough to show they would have no problem piercing the metal.

 

Skywarp's cry of pained surprise was echoed by Starscream's outraged shout. Starscream took a few running steps closer, but stopped as Skywarp began yelling. “Stay back! Stay back! Slaggit, he's got a grip on my main fuel line and every step closer you take he's squeezing it harder!” Skywarp yelped.

 

“What is the meaning of this?! What has glitched your circuits now, Autobot?” Starscream screeched, fists clenched at his side. He wanted to power up his nullrays, but coding was shrieking in his processor even at the thought of turning a weapon onto the trine's carrier. Especially now that Prowl had proposed including the entire trine in the sparkling's construction.

 

“I will not let Soundwave have my sparkling!” Prowl growled, claws contracting on the respective pieces of anatomy they gripped. Skywarp grunted and hissed in pain. “Mate or not, I will rend you into a thousand pieces before I let any other Decepticons so much as _look_ at my sparkling. And I will not allow destroyers of newsparks to even know, if I can help it! How much does Soundwave know? Who else knows? Has he reported to Megatron?” Terror flashed through his fields at the thought of Megatron or Shockwave finding out about his sparkling. “This sparkling is MINE and I will protect it!” he roared, snarling into Skywarp's face, engine redlining in a ferocious growl that rattled their plating. Prowl's armor and doorwings were flared aggressively, optics locked on Skywarp, though his sensors were avidly watching Starscream as well, looking for any sudden or suspicious movement.

 

“Where did you get that idea?” Starscream scoffed, already berating Skywarp over their bond. ~You idiot, what did you tell him?! If he scraps you it's your own fault!~ “Do you really think we would go to the trouble of hiding you here and fueling you if we were going to let those glitches know about you?”

 

Keeping very still under his aggressive mate, Skywarp answered Starscream. ~I didn't tell him anything! I mean, I might have said something just now about Soundwave but that's it! I don't know how he got it into his processor that we were giving our sparkling to Soundwave!~ he feebly defended himself to his angry trineleader. Then his processor oh-so-helpfully connected a few memories and probability strands and Skywarp mentally cringed. ~...oh. Uh, I might have figured out where he got the idea after all...~ Sheepishly he shared the conclusion his logic center had made, and the memory of the merge where he had possibly let slip some of the details of their deal with Soundwave. ~But I didn't think he'd caught anything at the time!~ he protested when a wave of anger and exasperation flowed back to him.

 

“I don't know!” Prowl yelled, in response to Starscream's questions, aware peripherally of the frantic bond talk. He could teek Skywarp's chagrin, though not the reason for it. It made his suspicions rise. “How can I trust you with our safety when you have let so many of your fellow Seekers suffer! When you have allowed a twisted madmech to steal and mangle your sparklings, when you follow a leader who orders it!”

 

“Why do you think I've tried for so long to kill him, Primus damn it!” Starscream shrieked, old guilt stabbing at his spark. He pushed through his wounded pride and remembered pain to offer a grudging explanation. “I have tried so many times to wrest control from that slag-headed gray hulk, but he is too strong for me to defeat on my own, especially when he had Soundwave and Shockwave supporting him. I've tried! Because I know, I know what he has done, ordered done, so much better than you do.” Vents hitching and wings trembling, Starscream wrapped his arms around himself and began pacing a few steps back and forth, careful to stay the same distance away from the two mechs entangled on the ground.

 

Prowl watched him carefully, but the sheer _misery-guilt-self flagellation-hate_ coming off of Starscream's fields where they brushed along the edge of his own was more convincing than anything the Seeker could say. Slowly, Prowl let his hands relax their grip, though he kept them where they were. “Then why haven't you taken your people and left? And what what did Skywarp mean, then, about Soundwave?” he asked sharply, all his sensors rivetted to Starscream and monitoring his reactions.

 

“Aside from the fact that many Seekers would rather die than go to the Autobots in the beginning of the war, where would we have gone? Megatron destroyed Neutral settlements, and the Autobots couldn't defend them. Not to mention the lack of energon or odds of surviving outside of a faction,” the tri-colored Seeker sneered, putting his hands on his hips and stopping his pacing to glare at Prowl. “I know Thundercracker told you this before. By the time Megatron had revealed his true nature, we were _trapped_. And I gave him my oath. Foolishly, unfortunately, but it means that I am bound to him by coding, as Winglord, unless or until he is defeated or deactivated. The only reason I can turn against him myself is because he has proven himself unworthy, but I can't just leave, and my people refuse to go without me- even though I have ordered them to.”

 

“That... explains a lot of the more incomprehensible dynamics within the command structure of the Decepticons,” Prowl muttered, raising a brow ridge. It was also some staggeringly vital information that could be used in the Autobots favor, and Starscream had just told it to _him_ , the Autobot's tactician. Their SIC. Was that deliberate, or an oversight on Starscream's part? “No wonder he keeps you close, despite your frequent attempts at assassination.” He relaxed even more, hands more or less just resting on Skywarp now, though his claws were still out. “But I still want to know what the Soundwave comment meant.”

 

Starscream huffed, and sent a piercing glare at Skywarp, who looked back with turbopuppy optics and waves of _apology-make it up to you-forgive me?_ Pushing through his field and their trinebond. “Not that it is any of your business, but Soundwave has made an... independent deal with my trine. He will overlook you and your condition and help us retrieve Thundercracker- in exchange he wants to share a heat with one of us and kindle a sparkling.” He waved a hand at Prowl's shocked look, a little pleased to see the Praxian was nearly as outraged by the idea as he was when it was proposed. “Oh, not that I intend to let him get away with it, but in the mean time he is our ally and working with us. Which means he is not tattling on us. And if he really wants a sparkling that bad, he might even be willing to support us against Megatron.” His optics brightened and his wings perked up as he let himself take a moment to imagine Megatron's surprise at such an event.

 

Prowl's optics widened, his battle computer racing, new possibilities tumbling over themselves as the information Starscream had provided slotted into place. His doorwings trembled. He could end the war! He could keep his sparkling safe from Megatron forever. He could- if Starscream cooperated. Oh, it was more important than ever to sway the trine to their side, or at the very least to convince them that he had to be returned! The Autobots _needed_ this information!

 

Somewhere in his surprise and calculations, Prowl had released Skywarp completely, and had both hands pressed over his chest as he stared unseeing into some middle distance as his processors raced. Skywarp cautiously scooched out from under him, watching those sharp white fingers carefully, and monitoring his teek closely. When Prowl failed to do more than twitch a doorwing in his direction, Skywarp began to get concerned. Why was Prowl clutching his chest? Was there something wrong with the sparkling? Giving a warble of worry, Skywarp nudged Prowl along their matebond, and waved a frantic hand at Starscream, wanting him to come closer and check him mate. Starscream wasn't a medic, but he had better scanning sensors and more than enough medical know-how to at least figure out if something was wrong, and maybe repair it.

 

Prowl shook himself out of his daze when Skywarp nudged him, and watched as Starscream approached. Worry swamped him from Skywarp, spark and teek, and he shook his head. “Sorry. No, there is nothing wrong with the sparkling, nor myself. Just a little overwhelmed by the implications of what you shared.” He narrowed shrewd icy optics at Starscream as he knelt and ran a scan anyway. “Though why you have failed to try and come to some kind of agreement with the Autobots before now is a bit of a mystery. We could have helped you free yourself from Megatron and ended this war long ago.”

 

“Ah, but long ago I didn't have Soundwave's cooperation. It is hard to plot sedition when a telepath can pluck it from your processor,” Starscream replied with a wry half smile. “Also, I was not going to lower myself to allying with the very mechs who had destroyed my city and so many of my people. Megatron fed us a lot of propaganda as well, and convinced many of my fellow fliers that it would be better to die free Decepticons than to be coerced and become nothing more than Autobot chattel- little better than taxis or flying weapons only let out when there was a battle.” He bared his denta in a mocking grin at Prowl when the Praxian made a protesting noise. “I know, ironic isn't it? He treats us exactly how he claims you would, and yet we allow it out of fear of him and belief that the Autobots would be worse.”

 

Prowl opened his mouth to add further protests, but shut it again with a sigh. Like Starscream said, it was ironic, but his admission meant that he at least knew it for the lie it was. Arguing with a mech who agreed with you was pointless. Suddenly Prowl felt so very tired. So much death and destruction, all because of pride and misinformation and fear. Something of his weariness and despair must have transmitted to his field, because Skywarp gave a little trill and brushed his claws gently over Prowl's arm. “I'm fine, Skywarp,” he said, with a little reassuring stroke along a black and purple wing. “Just suddenly very tired. And hungry. Perhaps we should go back to the warehouse and get some energon?”

 

Skywarp popped up, grabbed Prowl up into his arms, and before Starscream could even open his mouth to say something had warped himself and Prowl back to the warehouse. Prowl blinked up at him when the dizzy swirl of spacetime had resettled around them. Skywarp plunked Prowl down onto the berth, and dashed over to the converter. Grabbing several cubes, he ferried them back over to Prowl. Amused, Prowl took one and sipped from it while Skywarp hustled back over to the converter again.. Moments later, he heard jet engines scream overhead, and landed outside. A miffed Starscream stomped through the door, turbines still growling in annoyance.

 

“You couldn't have brought me here with you?” Starscream snapped, as he stalked over to Skywarp's side. He snapped bright blue fingers at Skywarp imperiously, and gave an irritated huff when all he got was a blank look. “The jammer you bolt head!” He snatched it from Skywarp's hand when it was retrieved from his cockpit and offered up, and ascended to the rafters to put it back in place. Drifting back down to alight next to the converter, Starscream pushed his black trinemate out of the way and started fueling up himself. “At least you remembered to keep it with you when you so _solicitously_ dragged your mate back here. I got a comm while we were apart; Megatron wants us back, immediately.” He waved a hand towards Prowl. “Go chain up your Autobot. Hurry up, Skywarp!,” Starscream snarled when the other Seeker didn't move fast enough for his satisfaction.

 

Prowl merely watched the byplay with mild amusement and let Skywarp fasten the collar around his neck. A pat to his bumper and then the Seeker trotted back over to Starscream. A flash of purple and they were gone.

 

Well, this was certainly a revelatory afternoon. There was so much for his computer to process and stew over. While he hadn't had a chance today to try his hand at persuading the Seekers to release him, go Autobot or at least Neutral, or to maybe entertain the idea of a truce, he had time for that. And at least he got a signal out, however briefly. Prowl looked at the rafter and tried sending out a comm, checking to see if the jammer was indeed still working. Nothing but static- ah well, it wouldn't be that easy now would it? Even if he couldn't sweet talk the trine into what he wanted, then at least he was one step closer to getting himself rescued. Every scrap of information he gained here was to his advantage. He wished he could pass it on, because it was so strategically important, but for now he would drink his energon and ponder new ways to win over flighty jets.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 


	20. Buried Coals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a tiny hiccup, but I smoothed it out. Mr. Pushy Scene tried to sneak in before it was its turn and messed up my flow a little, and almost halted the story. But once I figured out what it was doing, I was able to finally get the story going again. Just had to push the scene back and save it until later and proceed with what I had planned. So here you are, a slightly late update, but not too late I hope. ^_^

-=-=-=-

 

After dropping Bluestreak off at the rec room with a cube of energon and making his friendly rounds with the mechs there, Jazz headed to his office. Half the troops had forgotten Jazz even had an office, as the TIC rarely used it for meetings and such. No, rather his office was a secure vault full of intelligence reports and dangerous weapons and mysterious devices. Optimus, Prowl, and Mirage were among the few mecha who knew how secure and impenetrable Jazz' office really was, and why.

 

Jazz sat in the swivel/roller chair behind his desk. It was scaled up from a human desk chair design and Jazz loved it. He twirled around in it a few times then kicked off from his desk, launching the chair towards the innocuous computer consoles sitting along the wall behind him, just like the ones in all the common areas. One had to really look to notice that they were battery powered and not wired into the Ark's systems at all. This was the computer Jazz used to keep up with his monitoring devices and spy bugs. He was past due for checking it- he'd gotten distracted with their captive Seeker.

 

Plugging a datapad into the console, he let the 'pad run a check for viruses and any breaches in the computer's security. When it came back clear, Jazz unplugged the datapad and connected his own cable to the computer. It had been just a little over two weeks since he checked it- since before the battle and acquiring Thundercracker as a 'guest'. Going back to the last timestamp he'd accessed, he began listening to and filing away the information he'd gathered. Of course there were long periods of blank, no noises or voices, and Jazz used those times to write his reports and transcribe the bits that were important.

 

He was near the end of the most recently received block of recordings when Starscream's voice caught his attention. He was talking to Soundwave? Jazz checked the timestamp and which device this recording was from. Ah, interesting, it was the one in the trine's quarters, and it was from the day they captured Thundercracker. Jazz settled in to listen.

 

He about fell out of his chair a moment later when he heard what it was Soundwave wanted. Nearly as flustered as Starscream, Jazz flailed about for the report 'pad, and quickly began transcribing as he listened. Holy Primus below! This was a twist he hadn't expected! He listened to the end of the exchange, and the rest of the recordings, noting the other important conversations and comments. When they finished, Jazz disconnected from the computer and sat back.

 

Well, this changed things slightly. Quickly compiling a report and adding all the details he needed, Jazz downloaded it onto a secure datapad and headed out of his office. He nodded to mecha as he walked, but didn't stop to talk. When he arrived at his destination, he knocked on the door and pinged in a deliberate sequence. The door immediately opened to admit him, and Jazz walked into the security director's domain. Red Alert was already watching him, optics bright and frame tense. Jazz waited for the door to shut behind him and then held the datapad up and started talking.

 

“I jus' found out we migh' have a priority four breach, or if we haven't yet, we will soon,” Jazz explained, handing over the 'pad. He elaborated while Red Alert perused the report. “Soundwave's teamed up wit' the command trine, an' will be lookin' f'r a way ta free Thundercracker. If his cassettes haven't been snooping around yet, th'n they will be. Also, we need ta keep this bit of info from our guest- seems his trine ain't let him in on it yet, an' we might be able ta use it later.”

 

“Acknowledged. I'll need to increase perimeter vigilance even more, and start random sweeps through the ventilation and ducts,” Red Alert grumbled, typing in the new updates and security notices and requisitions for more cameras and sensors, then sighed. “Primus knows they always seem to find a way in, no matter how well I secure them. Blasted geologic instability always opens up new tunnels and hull breaches for them to exploit. Do you mind if I borrow Bumblebee and Mirage for the sweeps?” Red Alert asked, looking up from the console to raise a brow ridge at Jazz.

 

“Sure thing, an' ya c'n add me ta th' roster for the sweeps too,” Jazz replied. “I'll help ya install some new monitorin' devices too, an' I'll help ya talk Prime inta lettin' ya step up security ev'n more.”

 

“Thank you, Jazz,” Red Alert said, then muttered grumpily, “At least you understand the need for more monitoring. Prime always complains about the need for privacy, and that the crew doesn't feel comfortable being watched all the time. Hurts morale he says. Well, morale would be improved if they knew they were safe and that there was no danger of a security breach, now wouldn't it!”

 

Jazz managed not to snicker at the red and white lamborghini's grumblings, but it was a close thing. He waited until Red Alert was done with his own report, and accepted a copy. “Let me know when your goin' ta talk ta Optimus, an' I'll back ya up. See ya later, Red.” Red Alert nodded distractedly, already attentively watching the camera feed and sensor readings. The door locked firmly behind Jazz as he exited the room though, no matter how distracted the Security Director had looked.

 

Jazz headed out, deciding he would wander the base a bit, feeling restless. After a moment's thought he also dialed up his sensor suite and audials to their most sensitive setting. After all, if he was out wandering, he might as well double it as a security sweep of his own. Wouldn't hurt to keep all his senses on alert if there were cassetticons about. Might even be able to catch them. First stop, let Prime know about the new development, then he'd wander, catch up his team on things, and perform his own kind of perimeter surveillance.

 

Optimus gave permission to do what was necessary to safeguard the Ark, and relayed those orders to Red Alert. He stopped in with each member of his team, and let them know about possible cassetticon incursions and that they would have new schedules soon for their anti-infiltration sweeps. So done, Jazz continued his meandering, all the while checking his own security bugs and traps, and adding new ones. His wander was interrupted when he was almost done, by a sudden crackle and blip along the officer's channel.

 

Jazz was running back towards the main bridge and the command center the instant the identification ping appeared on his HUD. It was Prowl! He had just barreled through the doorway when a second, slightly larger and longer message came through. He ran past Ironhide, who was the officer on shift, and headed straight for the comm officer.

 

“Did ya get that? C'n ya track it?” he demanded as he skidded to a stop next to Blaster at the communications central console.

 

“I got it alright,” Blaster answered, fingers flying over the console's keys, “But they were too short to track, dammit. Unless we get some more, or a longer message, I ain't gonna be able to pinpoint their source.”

 

Optimus walked into the room just then, quickly followed be Ratchet and Wheeljack. Red Alert sent a frantic ping at them, but remained in his lair. The officers clustered around Blaster, waiting to see if another message appeared. Meanwhile, Red Alert sent them all a comm, saying he had examined and unencrypted the messages, and verified that they were indeed sent by Prowl, all the security codes and frequencies checked out. Optimus thanked him, while Blaster grumbled that he'd already done that and Ratchet rolled his optics.

 

A breem passed and it became apparent that no further messages would be arriving. Blaster slumped in disappointment, as did the rest of them, but he efficiently plugged a couple of secure datapads into the console and uploaded the expanded messages into it. He handed one of the 'pads to Optimus, and the other to Jazz. “It's not much, but he included his status and some intel.”

 

Optimus read the information, greatly relieved when he saw that Prowl was physically doing well. He passed it on to Ratchet, who snatched it the second it was near enough. “Hn. Well, it seems that the blasted jets are keeping him well fueled at least. There are some signs of stress, but I suppose that would be normal, given the situation. The sparkling and all his systems appear to be just fine, as well,” Ratchet reported as he read the health stats. All around him, the officers relaxed a touch, letting some of their worry ease, plating loosening from the tight clamp it had been in.

 

Jazz looked up from the copy he had and spoke. “Good. An' our clever 'bot managed ta get us somethin' ta help narrow the search.” He nodded to Blaster, who pulled up the information- the bits of constellations Prowl had sent along- and a star chart showing their placement in the sky at this time of year. “While it's not 'nough ta pinpoint, it does give us a good idea where ta look. Looks like he might be somewhere in the South Pacific.”

 

-=-=-=-

 

Starscream stalked into the War Room, only to find all of the Decepticon officers already there and waiting. He suppressed the anxious twitch his wings wanted to make, and pasted a sneer onto his face. Sauntering over to his chair on Megatron's left, he sat and folded his arms over his cockpit.

 

“Now that our sky commander had deigned to arrive,” Megatron growled with a narrow opticked glance at the Seeker, “Let's begin. I want a plan for our next raid. Which energy sources would be best to hit, and updates on when the newest weapon will be ready.”

 

The meeting proceeded with the usual bickering and self-aggrandizing nonsense. Starscream threw his usual barbs and sneering comments, but he wasn't really putting much effort into it. Unfortunately Megatron noticed his attitude and when the rest of the officers were dismissed after a meeting that lasted over two groons, he held Starscream back. “Not you Starscream,” he called as the mass of mechs headed for the door. Starscream stopped halfway across the room, and turned back to Megatron, a wary look on his face. “I wish to _speak_ with you.”

 

“Were we boring you, Starscream?” Megatron asked, after the last officer had left and the door closed, voice dangerously silky. “Or perhaps there was somewhere else you were wanting to be?” He moved closer to the Seeker until he stood a mere wire's width away from touching his chestplates to the blue arms folded defensively over yellow cockpit glass. He let his looming presence make the jet squirm for a few kliks before growling. “Well? I expect an answer.”

 

“Of course not, my lord,” Starscream said as his optics darted around, looking anywhere but Megatron's face. He flinched when he saw those big black hands curl into fists and hurriedly continued. “Forgive me, my lord, I was just distracted because I was thinking about a possible new weapon design.”

 

The fists relaxed some, and Megatron let out an interested rumble. “A weapon, hm? Well, then I expect you to send me a report about it, along with it's uses, before next shift. It must be quite the weapon, if it was enough to pull your attention away from my presence,” Megatron observed in a low drawling growl, the not-so-subtle implication being that if it wasn't suitably impressive then Starscream would pay for his inattention.

 

“I will have the report ready, Megatron,” Starscream hastily replied. Good thing he kept a stash of weapons designs that he didn't show the overbearing oaf. He could just choose one from that list and add some shiny new tweaks, and keep the warlord happy.

 

“I will expect it- have it ready by the end of your shift tomorrow,” Megatron growled, glaring at the Seeker for a few moments more. Finally he turned away and strode back to the table. Settling into his chair and lifting a datapad, he made a show of reading it. “You are dismissed Starscream,” he said with an affected air of distraction.

 

Wisely, Starscream merely muttered a “yes, my lord” and fled.

 

…

 

 

“Why didn't you tell Prowl the whole truth about your oath as Winglord?” Skywarp asked when Starscream got back to their quarters. Starscream just gave him a weary, blank look at first, worn out from the political maneuvering and bickering at the officer's meeting, and mind still full of the stress of dealing with Megatron. When his processors shifted to the sudden change in topic and the question finally registered, he snorted.

 

“I didn't want to tell your Autobot even that much, but your big mouth meant I had to,” Starscream replied with a mild glare. Skywarp ducked his head and dipped his wings in apology. Huffing with fond exasperation, Starscream flopped onto the couch next to Skywarp and let his field pulse _amusement-forgiven-love._ “Although what I did tell him might help us, garner some sympathy and make it easier to work with them later, so you are forgiven. But I am never going to tell them the _all_ the particulars if I can help it.”

 

“But why? I mean, they could maybe fix it, or something,” Skywarp asked as he snuggled into Starscream's side.

 

“Doesn't matter if they can or not, the only solution I will accept is the one I've been working on,” Starscream growled. ~Why do you think I've been trying to kill Megatron?~ he continued over their bond. ~That's the best way to fix this. And while _you_ may trust your mate, I don't. I am _certainly_ not going to tell him that the oath I gave Megatron is the one I'd normally give the Prime. And if I have my way, I will deactivate before they learn that I allowed Megatron and Shockwave to hack me and mutated the code to ensure I can't leave him.~ Starscream had never regretted anything more. But in the beginning of the war, it had been a real concern that his coding might make him turn on his new chosen allies- as the new Winglord he'd already given his oath to Sentinel Prime. So when that Senate puppet died, they made sure he wouldn't turn on them to follow the new Prime. It was only much later that Starscream realized just what it was he'd tied himself to.

 

“Oh, Okay,” Skywarp muttered. ~But if we do kill Megatron, do you think they can fix the code then?~ he wondered.

 

~It should go back to neutral, when the glitch dies. And I will never make another oath if I can help it, so there will be no reason for the Autobots to poke around in my coding,~ was the reply, as the white Seeker stretched his legs out in front of himself. “For now, we should relax. Megatron was in a fairly tolerable mood this solar cycle, and I am enjoying the fact that I am not scrapped. I have to get a weapon's design ready for him, but that shouldn't take more than a groon or so, and I can do that at the start of the next solar cycle,” Starscream said as tugged Skywarp closer with one hand. “So come here and let me pet your wings for a bit, hm?” he purred.

 

Skywarp's optics lit up in interest and he grinned. “Sure Star,” he smiled, cuddling closer and caressing the red chestplates of his trinemate.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 

 


	21. More Hot Coals Stirred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I've noticed a trend- apparently I need about 10 days between updates, so I will strive for 7, but don't be surprised if it hits closer to 10. I have no buffer chapters anymore, so that's about how long it takes me to get each chapter written and polished for posting. 
> 
> If I can kick my behind into gear and quit goofing off and getting distracted on the internet I might even get the next chapter out sooner, and get a buffer back. XP I will admit I let things like tumblr suck up too much of my time that should be spent writing...

-=-=-=-

 

Thundercracker was wary as he was led through the corridors. He couldn't stop his wings from twitching nor the way he watched the mech beside him carefully. He would be less apprehensive about the announcement that he was getting visitors if it wasn't Jazz leading him by the arm to the 'meeting'. The black and white mech had bounced into his brig cell and chirpily announced that since he was being such a model guest, he was being allowed to have visitors and that they would meet them in a more comfortable room, all while slapping stasis cuffs on his wrists and putting power inhibitors on the lines leading to his heel thrusters. Since there were no mecha here with the Autobots that he would want to talk to, Thundercracker assumed that he meant it was time for another interrogation. So he was particularly surprised when the TIC led him into a room that looked like a private sitting area.

 

Jazz pushed him towards a chair, and told him to sit down. It was a thickly padded, low-backed loveseat, big enough for two smaller grounders, but with Thundercracker's slightly larger-than-the -average- Seeker build and wide wings, it suited him well as a chair. Thundercracker sat, vaguely confused and wondering what the visored mech was up to.

 

Jazz merely flopped onto the matching couch opposite the loveseat, one arm flung across the back of it. “Don' worry, your visitors will be here 'n jus' a moment,” he said with a lopsided grin. This did nothing to reassure the Seeker, and blue wings and plating rustled as Thundercracker shifted nervously.

 

They sat in uncomfortable silence- well, uncomfortable for Thundercracker, Jazz seemed perfectly at ease- for only a few minutes before a ping sounded at the door. Jazz sent the signal to the door, and it beeped as it unlocked. It opened to reveal Ratchet, who stomped right on in, and another mech who stood frozen in the doorway, fists clenched and optics shuttered.

 

Thundercracker's spark nearly leapt out of his chest. It was a Praxian waiting outside the room, and for one brief, wild moment, the colors and the frame looked like a grown up version of his long-dead sparkling, and he _hoped_ … Then the illusion shattered. Blue optics unshuttered (not gold) and gray and black doorwings hiked up (not navy and purple, though the red was _mostly_ in the right places), and Bluestreak walked into the room and sat next to Jazz, frame and field carefully neutral. Ratchet and Jazz looked at Thundercracker closely when he released a shuddering vent, but otherwise made no notice or comment about his momentary upset.

 

Ratchet said something, but Thundercracker couldn't hear it over his racing thoughts and aching spark. Why would he have thought it was his sparkling? He knew, _knew_ , that his mate and sparkling had died- so few had survived Praxus, and they had lived in one of the worst hit areas where none had survived. Pits, there hadn't even been any _frames_ , since the entire area had been vaporized. And besides, he had felt the sparkling bond shatter. So, why the sudden hope? He could only think that it was the fact there was a new carrier-mate, a new sparkling on the way, and old memories stirred up.

 

Ratchet said something again and moved closer, and finally Thundercracker's attention snapped back to the present. He refocused just as the medic's hand touched him and couldn't stop the violent flinch at the contact. That earned him a raised brow ridge and a heavy frown, almost a concerned one, from Ratchet. Thundercracker clicked his vocalizer and shifted. “Sorry, I had a sudden memory flux. Could you repeat the question?” he asked, hoping that would deflect the medic enough to make him leave it be.

 

Ratchet's brow remained raised, but he stepped back. “I said that I would be here to monitor the visit and give you a check up, and asked if would be willing to talk to Bluestreak. When you didn't respond I asked if you were okay,” he said, then paused significantly. Thundercracker stared at him blankly. “Well, _are_ you?” he huffed when an answer wasn't forthcoming.

 

“Oh, yes, um... I will talk with Bluestreak, and you may do an exam if you must. But I am fine,” Thundercracker replied, voice and field reflecting surprise at the concern he was being shown.

 

Ratchet humphed, teek full of skepticism, but he pulled his scanner out of subspace anyway. “Well, let me plug this in and get the scan over with, then,” he huffed, holding out the cable, and gesturing towards Thundercracker's wrist port.

 

Thundercracker couldn't help brief flash of terror that rippled through his fields before he abruptly pulled them in close and unreadable. But he wasn't quick enough, and Ratchet gave him a a sharp, piercing look. Thundercracker managed to keep his face impassive, and stared back as he opened the access panel to that data port. A few kliks passed while Ratchet observed him with narrowed optics, but when TC remained unmoved, he shrugged and plugged the scanner's cable in. The moment the jack hit his port, Thundercracker flinched violently. Doing so earned him another intense look from Ratchet, but otherwise no comment. He couldn't help it- the last cabling he'd experienced was just last night and it hadn't exactly been pleasant. He knew from past experience that it would be a while before he could enjoy cabling again without that flinch and expectation of harm.

 

Lips a thin pressed line, Ratchet watched the scanner's readings come in, all while keeping an optic on Thundercracker. He unplugged from the Seeker the moment the scanner beeped it was done, and couldn't help but notice the slight relaxation of tense armor. There was something going on there, but he was a medic, not a psychologist, and slaggit, there wasn't anything he could do about this kind of trauma. Odd though, Thundercracker hadn't seemed to have any problems with being plugged into last time he'd had to scan him. “Well, overall you look pretty good. Your self-repair seems to be running a little hot, but that could just be because you're finally getting enough fuel and rest for it to actually get things done. Are all the Decepticons this poorly fueled and behind on repairs?” he grumbled as he put things away and sat down on the couch, sandwiching Bluestreak between him and Jazz. “I'm amazed any of you can still fight if that's the way things are.”

 

Thundercracker didn't answer, but he didn't need to. Bluestreak spoke up for the first time since entering. “Perhaps they would find it easier to stay fueled if they didn't kill all the people who might be willing to work or trade with them,” the gray Praxian suggested, voice quiet but laced with old anger.

 

Jazz turned his helm and merely gave Bluestreak a dim-visored look, but apparently it was enough to convey his disapproval because gray and black doorwings lowered submissively. No apology was offered though, and Bluestreak didn't take his optics off of Thundercracker.

 

“I suppose you would be correct,” Thundercracker admitted slowly, trying to read the undercurrents in the room. “I don't make the orders though.”

 

Bluestreak's doorwings rose again, quivering high over his shoulders. He growled. “No, you just follow them, destroying innocent lives and killing neutrals, and stealing and raping and -”

 

“Bluestreak!” Jazz barked, field whipping through the room as he sat up and glared at the growling mech next to him.

 

Thundercracker flinched again at Jazz's anger, as did Bluestreak who cut off his growl, but didn't stop glaring at the Seeker across from him. “I may have killed neutrals and done things under orders that I am not proud of, but I have _never_ raped anymech! Nor allowed it to happen if I could prevent it!” Thundercracker defended himself, letting some of his own anger fill his field.

 

“You took my creator during his heat, without his permission, what else would you call that?!” Bluestreak snarled, ignoring Jazz and Ratchet's hands on his arms and their hissed admonitions.

 

Thundercracker's processor, everything, stalled. His vents hitched and his spark gave a painful lurching pulse. “What?” he whispered. He hadn't shared a heat with anyone in millenia. Not since Praxus. Surely this young Praxian couldn't mean-

 

“Prowl!” Bluestreak yelled, unknowingly breaking through Thundercracker's thoughts. “You took Prowl! Your frelling trinemate took advantage of his heat and then you kidnapped my creator! He didn't want you, he shouldn't be with you, he should be _here_ where his friends can take care of him! Not trapped somewhere with an unwanted newspark and enemies and slag knows what you three Primus damned _Seekers_ -” this came out on a particularly vicious snarl “-are doing to him! No! I won't be quiet! They have my creator!” Bluestreak ranted, struggling against the two mechs now pinning him to the couch and ordering him to be quiet and calm down.

 

Thundercracker's mind raced. “He said he'd never carried before,” he blurted out, as he tried to get his thoughts and spark under control. With all this confusion and distress, he was glad he'd blocked his side of the trinebond in anticipation of more interrogation, otherwise he'd be fending off concerned questions from his trinemates. Demands for information and explanations were not something he needed right now.

 

“Did ya really 'xpect Prowl ta be completely forthcomin' wit' ya?” Jazz scoffed, still pinning a growling, angry Blue under himself. “Would _you_ tell your captors 'bout any sparklin's ya might've had?”

 

“No, I wouldn't,” Thundercracker growled, adding subvocally “and you know why.” That muttered comment earned him a sidelong look from Jazz but he didn't care. Ratchet caught on to the undercurrent between them, and raised a brow ridge but otherwise didn't comment.

 

Bluestreak finally stopped struggling, and shuttered his optics, huddling in on himself. Fighting was a bit futile anyway- Ratchet outweighed him and was stronger too, and Jazz was heavier than his frame size would suggest, not to mention he had plenty of knowledge in how to use leverage and certain holds to pin a mech. Panting vents cycled fast, working to cool his overheated frame. The anger was still there, but the rage had faded. Under the anger, barely hidden and held back by it, was fear and despair. It swam under the surface, waiting to pull Bluestreak down, and Blue worried that if he let go of the anger even for a klik he would be drowned in it.

 

His inner turmoil was not as hidden as Bluestreak would have wished. It leaked into his field and made his vents stutter and hitch. The older mechs eased their holds on him, from restraining him to supporting and comforting. Ratchet and Jazz rumbled their engines comfortingly at him. They turned their helms in surprise when they heard a third engine purr join theirs. They looked over to see Thundercracker watching Bluestreak, optics glowing a soft red. When Bluestreak looked up, Thundercracker's engine thrummed louder and his hands twitched, raising a little like he wanted to reach towards them.

 

Thundercracker couldn't help the soft trill he gave when those wary blue optics met his, nor the tentative brush of _protect-comfort-sorry_ he offered with his field. The Praxian was barely out of mechlinghood and it still showed in his teek and mannerisms. All of which was sending Thundercracker's coding into a bit of a tizzy. He could feel it trying to latch on to the Autobot and mentally cursed, staving it off by repeating to himself over and over that this mech was full grown, and _not_ related to his trine. It worked, but barely. Any slip in control and he might find himself tied to this young 'Bot, like he already was to Prowl and the sparkling. One Autobot was bad enough, two would make things exponentially more difficult. Still, he couldn't quite stop his efforts to comfort the distressed mech.

 

…

 

Jazz watched the big blue Seeker flutter his wings at Bluestreak and practically coo at him and had to stamp on his reactions hard to keep from revealing his triumph. This wasn't quite how he had wanted Bluestreak to get under Thundercracker's plating, but since it seemed to have worked, he could work with it.

 

“Com'on baby Blue, ya know they wouldn't do anythin' as long as we've got ol' Thundercracker here,” Jazz crooned close to Bluestreak's audial. “They'd be too 'fraid we migh' take it out on our guest. An' ya know Prowler c'n handle himself. He raised ya , an' taught ya quite a few o' his tricks after all.” He blinked one half of his visor in an approximation of a wink when Bluestreak turned his head to look at him. “'Sides, ev'n 'Con Seekers ain't gonna hurt th' mech carryin' their trine's sparklin' an' ya know that.”

 

Thundercracker's field flinched and he visibly recoiled at that statement. He widened his optics at Bluestreak and his cuffed hands that he'd held out dropped into his lap. “You-... you still actually think we'd harm him, harm our own sparkling?” TC asked, vocalizer crackling just slightly, feeling like somebot had just punched him in the intake. “We took him so that he'd remain _safe_! So that he and the sparkling could get the merges they needed to remain _healthy_! We certainly couldn't just give him back while the newspark needs Skywarp, as I sincerely doubt that you would have let Sky come here! That's why we 'kidnapped' him, why he's hidden. And we've kept him secret- at risk to ourselves- so that that Unicron-sparked _reject_ we call our leader won't get his energon-soaked claws on them!” Thundercracker had slowly bristled more and more as he spoke, until by the end of his little tirade he was standing in front of his seat, wings high and fists clenched.

 

All three Autobots blinked up at him, surprise and a bit of uncertainty in their fields. There was also more than just a little bit of fear coming from Bluestreak's teek. Jazz was the first to move- and he definitely filed away the way TC spat the word leader and the disdain in his voice to review later- standing slowly. He watched Thundercracker closely, frame loose and ready, and started to slide in front of his mechs on the couch. But Thundercracker stiffened even more as he stepped closer and a low rumbling growl shivered the air. He froze, visor locked on the suddenly aggressive Seeker. Even cuffed and with inhibitors Thundercracker could be dangerous. Thundercracker glared at him, lip curling in a snarl, but Jazz noticed that the Seeker's optics kept flicking towards Bluestreak, who was almost directly behind him. A thought suddenly connected, and Jazz tilted his head, mouth quirking slightly.

 

He decided to test his hypothesis, and shifted to block Bluestreak from Thundercracker's sight even more. The low growl still emanating from the Seeker abruptly rose to an outright snarl, and TC shifted forward a fraction, tensing as if ready to lunge. Jazz's brow ridged jumped up. Well, now. This was interesting. Hypothesis confirmed, Jazz eased back the other way, slowly stepping farther away from them.

 

::Ratchet, Bluestreak,:: Jazz commed as he moved back towards his end of the couch and around behind it, ::I think TC is feelin' a li'l Mama Bear right now, an' I'm gonna jus' step over here by the door f'r a bit. Blue, _you_ stay right where ya are. Don't move. But Ratch', ya might wanta join me over here.:: He kept moving as he commed and stopped when he was by the door and casually leaned against the wall next to it.

 

::What?:: Ratchet commed back, giving Jazz a confused look before he looked between the tense jet and the way he focused on Bluestreak. ::Oh, yes, I see what you mean.:: He began to get up, but Bluestreak clutched at him, hand tight around his own red one.

 

::Wait! What? No, don't leave me over here with him by myself!:: Blue yelped, doorwings quivering, turning his head to give a pleading glance at Jazz, though he never took his sensors off Thundercracker. ::Why do I have to stay over here?::

 

::Because, Blue, Thundercracker is very stressed right now and his coding seems to be acting up a bit,:: Ratchet explained while gently prying the Praxian's hand off his and giving it a pat- that made Thundercracker growl again, though it was mostly from the swell of anxiety in Bluestreak's teek. ::See what I mean,:: he said with a sidelong look at the jet. ::He seems a bit protective of you right now, and we don't want to set him off. You just sit there and relax, and so will he.:: Ratchet slowly stood and sidled away from the couch and headed over to Jazz's spot.

 

::Jus' do it, baby Blue,:: Jazz added from his stance by the door. ::Ya managed ta do what I wanted ya ta do, an' got TC's codin' locked onta ya.:: Jazz ignored Ratchet's helm whipping in his direction and the fierce glare from the medic. ::You jus' sit pretty an' let him simmer down now.::

 

Bluestreak gulped, and nodded weakly. He still watched Thundercracker warily, but he deliberately flared and reset his armor in a more relaxed manner, and settled into the couch. Thundercracker watched him, and relaxed as he did, slowly sitting back down onto the loveseat. A low trill came from the Seeker and his field reached out to Blue, again trying to offer comfort. Bluestreak shuddered, but let the calming field settle against his and help him relax.

 

::What do you mean, 'TC's coding locked on to him'- and why wasn't I informed about this possibility before hand?:: Ratchet demanded in a growl over a private comm with Jazz, after a few breem proved that things were indeed calming down, and a stuttered and awkward conversation had started between Bluestreak and Thundercracker.

 

::It's somethin' I learned 'bout fliers, an' Seekers in particular. Sorry.:: Jazz replied, slouching more comfortably against the wall. He knew Ratchet wouldn't let him be until he go the whole explanation. ::I didn't tell ya, 'cause I thought ya already knew, or that Optimus had told ya-:: he had no compunction about spreading the ire of the Hatchet around, and besides, Optimus could handle it, ::- since I asked 'im f'r permission. An' it was his decree tha' ya be here too. Seems that Seekers are hard coded ta protect their trine an' mates an' sparklin's, not just physically, but also by pressin' the mute button hard when it comes ta givin' up info on 'em. At least, if they see ya as a threat or an enemy.::

 

::So you dragged poor Bluestreak in here to what, get Thundercracker to open up by making the coding see him as a sparkling? How could you know it would work?:: Ratchet shot back, unimpressed.

 

::Not jus' any sparklin' but _Prowl's_ sparklin'. An' I didn't know it would work, but it seemed th' best bet ta getting' info outa him,:: Jazz shrugged. He gave Ratchet a cocky grin when the medic huffed and crossed his arms. ::If Blue didn't work, I had a back-up plan, ta use Skyfire. Still wanta get 'im in ta talk ta TC, anyway. 'Perantly Skyfire used ta be mated ta Screamer. Yeah, I know, who'd a thunk it right?:: he said when he teeked Ratchet's surprise. :: Anyway, the more mechs Thundercracker sees as non-enemies, the closer we are ta bringin' Prowl home.::

 

::I see,:: Ratchet drawled. ::I think there might be a flaw in your plan though.::

 

Jazz turned to look at Ratchet, curious. ::Wha' do ya mean by tha'?::

 

::I mean that it's going to be hard for _you_ to get anything out of Thundercracker, no matter how many 'non-enemies' you give him to get friendly with, when you have obviously done something to him and put yourself _very_ firmly in the enemy category,:: Ratchet said with a wry twist to his mouth, and tossed a significant glance at Jazz. ::And don't think that I'm not wondering about what it is you did. He treated you as a threat the moment you two got here, but especially when you moved. Me, he only growled at when Blue's field flared up in alarm. Somehow I don't think you are going to be able to buddy up to him and get him to talk to _you_.::

 

Jazz froze, then slumped as he realized that Ratchet was correct. There was only one thing he could think of to say to that revelation. ::.... well, frag.::

 

-=-=-=-=-

 

 


	22. Old Burns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha, 10 days is a good fit. (although I had to rush the edit on this one a bit. ^_^)

-=-=-=-

 

 

Bluestreak was confused and more than a little troubled. The meeting with Thundercracker yesterday had been... odd. Oh, he had expected the yelling and the anger, especially from himself. It was a lot to ask for him to stuff all that down when presented with a Seeker to whom he could rage at and yell. Seekers were the ones who leveled Praxus after all, and that old hurt never completely went away. Not to mention their more recent war crimes, and Prowl's kidnapping.

 

But the stuff later, when Thundercracker had tried to sooth him, and had gotten so protective of him... that was still freaking him out a little. It kept circling through his processor, and he'd been distracted all day trying to process it. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it. Sure, it accomplished the goal, and Jazz was pleased with his success- even if Blue wasn't sure how he'd managed, since he hadn't exactly been friendly- but he felt... a little dishonest. Here was Thundercracker being nice and cooing at him like a distressed sparkling, and Bluestreak was the mech who shot him down, and was only playing nice to get information out of the Seeker.

 

He really wished that he could talk to Prowl about his conflicted feelings, like he usually did when something troubled him and was accustomed to doing, but of course that was not an option this time. But he knew a few mechs that he could talk to, since they at least knew most of the situation already anyway.

 

Oh, he _missed_ Prowl. Nothing was ever this confusing when his creator was here to offer advice and take care of things!

 

Sighing, Bluestreak signed off his console, his shift at monitor duty over, and headed to the mess hall to get a cube and to hang out with his off-duty friends. Maybe he would be able to enjoy it for a while before Jazz dragged him off for another 'visit' with Thundercracker.

 

He grabbed a cube at the dispenser and sat at a table. So far he was the only one in here, but that was because the monitor room was closest to the mess hall and it would take the others longer to get here- especially if they were just getting in off of patrol. They had adapted their schedule to the planet's solar cycle, with overlapping shifts so that there was never a time when all the inhabitants of the Ark were in recharge. It worked well, with three shift schedules, and everyone got some free time that overlapped with friends on other shifts. Too bad Bluestreak wasn't going to be able to use all his free time to hang out today. Maybe he could convince Jazz to change these visit times to when his daily roster was scheduled for light duty/ on-call.

 

He'd hardly started in on his energon before mechs began to wander in. Most walked in chatting with shift mates, grabbed their cubes and walked right back out, headed to the rec room, still chatting. Bluestreak waved, but declined invitations to join them. He was waiting for a specific group of mechs.

 

Hound walked in with Sideswipe, both having just got back from driving patrol. He waved at them and gestured at the table he was saving. They smiled and waved back, nodding, and headed his way after they grabbed their own energon cubes. Plopping down into seats at the table, they chatted for a minute before Sideswipe asked “Okay, Blue, what's up? You commed asking us to talk, but you aren't saying much.”

 

“I did, and I will, but I was kinda hoping that maybe Sunstreaker and Bumblebee would be able to sit with us too,” Bluestreak replied. “I was pretty sure Sunny was on your shift, and Bee commed that he'd be here in a minute. It's his free hours, but he's wrapping up a game with Cliffjumper.”

 

Sideswipe gave him a shrewd look, and shared a glance with Hound at the list of mechs that Blue wanted in the group, but merely said “You know Sunny, he needed to be pristine after getting road dirt on himself, so he's currently using up all the hot water and wax in the washracks. He'll be here in a few.” They continued chatting about their shift and interesting things they saw as they waited for the last two to show up, waving at the other mecha passing through.

 

Bumblebee showed up a breem later, with Sunstreaker not far behind him gleaming like molten gold. They nabbed their own cubes, Bee just getting a light refreshing cube of lowgrade instead of a full ration, and joined the small group at the table. Sunstreaker grunted in greeting, sitting back in his chair and putting his peds up on Sideswipe's lap. Bumblebee grinned at everyone.“Hey guys. Hi Blue. What were you wanting to talk about?” Bee asked, as he sipped his small cube of lowgrade.

 

“Well, I was wanting to talk to you guys because, see, you know what's going on,” Bluestreak answered in low tones, leaning in a bit closer to the others. None of them even tried to pretend ignorance of what he meant, and nodded, looking around at the mostly empty mess hall. The only other mechs in there were Gears, Grapple, and Beachcomber having an animated and loud conversation on the other side of the room. Deeming it safe enough to continue, Bluestreak went on, “You know that Prowl isn't just on a vacation somewhere. And I know you heard that it was the Seekers that took him.” The others nodded, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe frowning fiercely at the reminder. “And obviously, everyone knows that Thundercracker is our prisoner right now. But what I wanted to talk to you guys about is something I need some help with,” Bluestreak paused a moment and sighed from his vents, then visibly steeled himself and hiked his doorwings up. “You see, Jazz has asked me to talk to Thundercracker and try to get his coding to see me as an ally, and I think it worked, but now I feel weird, and I really don't want to talk to him again but I have to because if it did work then that's an advantage for us, and I need you guys to tell me how to get through this. I don't have anyone else to ask. Jazz needs me to be nice and I don't know if I can, but this is supposed to help get Prowl back and I want that so badly! I just don't know what to do,” he trailed off, looking at his friends expectantly.

 

They blinked at him, unsure what to say to that sudden information download. Bumblebee was the first to gather his processor together enough to ask a question. “This is something Jazz has ordered?” Blue nodded, doorwings lowering. “And the objective seems to be working, that is, you are getting Thundercracker to talk?” Blue nodded again, but his doorwings perked up some. “Then you should keep doing it, even if it makes you uncomfortable, unless it becomes too much to handle.”

 

“Wait a minute,” Sideswipe broke in, speaking low but forcefully, “Bluestreak shouldn't have to talk to some pit-spawn Seeker, just because Jazz told him to! I mean, how the Pits is making _Bluestreak_ talk to Thundercracker supposed to get information out of the Primus damned Seeker if Jazz and the other officers couldn't do it?”

 

Sunstreaker growled in agreement, and added to his brother's question, “Jazz certainly shouldn't need any help when it comes to interrogations. He's got more tricks and nasty surprises in his subspace than the whole army. On both sides. Why does _he_ need help?”

 

“I guess it's not really secret,” Bluestreak said, glancing at the other table of mechs who were still talking loudly and ignoring their table. “See, apparently Seekers got this deep coded response to threats against their trine that makes it impossible for them to talk about them to enemies or betray them that way- and it extends to their carrier-mates and sparklings as well. So we can't get him to talk about where Prowl is either. But... but since Prowl is my creator, that means I can get Thundercracker to talk to me.”

 

They were silent for a moment to digest that little tidbit. Their EM fields shared all the jumbled up feelings that their pensive faces hid. Hound tipped his head to the side, and considered Bluestreak. “If you have already talked to him once, and the plan appears to be working, then why are you so anxious about going back?” he asked gently.

 

The others looked at Blue questioningly, and he flared his doorwings somewhat defensively, field flaring with uncertainty and a bit of sadness and old old hatred. “Because... because he's a Seeker. I don't care if being nice to him will help, I don't want to be! It was the Seeker squadrons that bombed Praxus and killed everyone! I love Prowl and I will do anything to get him back, he's all I have left, but I don't know if I can do this!”

 

Bluestreak's voice had risen enough at the end of that last statement that he caught the attraction of Gears, Grapple, and Beachcomber, and they cut off their conversation to stare at him in surprise. Bluestreak ducked his doorwings, and looked down at his hands which were gripping the edge of the table tight.

 

Sideswipe shared a look and a few words with Sunstreaker over their twin-bond, then casually stood up and stretched. “We~ell,” he drawled, with a smile, “Let's see if we can't help you out, but for now, let's take this party to me and Sunny's quarters.” He ignored Sunstreaker growling and saying not to call him that, and that he'd not meant _their_ quarters. “We've got the most room I think.”

 

Grabbing cubes and ignoring the inquisitive looks they were getting from the three at the other table, they shuffled on out of the room and made their way to the twin's habsuite. They settled onto the couch- Sunny claimed the chair, while Sideswipe flopped onto his specially-made Cybertronian sized beanbag (the one he refused to explain/share where he got it)- with Bluestreak in the middle. It reminded him of the previous day and some of the distress from the reminder leaked into his EM field. Hound and Bee leaned against him companionably, quietly rumbling their engines. All of them, even aloof Sunstreaker, pressed their fields soothingly against his, offering calm and support until Bluestreak gave a little grateful smile and sat up straighter.

 

“Thanks guys, but I'm okay. I'm just not sure how I'm going to pull off this whole 'get the Seeker to like me' thing that Jazz wants me to do, when I can barely stand to be in the same room with him,” Bluestreak, said with a shrug. “Any suggestions to help me?”

 

“Will there be anyone else there?” Bee asked.

 

“Yeah, Jazz and either Ratchet or Ironhide,” Blue answered.

 

“Maybe get one of them talking first, then let Thundercracker join in if he wishes? That would take some of the pressure off of you,” Bee suggested.

 

“That's a good idea, Blue. Don't ignore Thundercracker, but maybe just say hi and then focus on one of the others for a bit until you can relax enough to not get angry or anxious about him,” Hound offered.

 

“Who says he can't get angry?” Sideswipe asked, “Maybe he should just dive right in and ask ol' Thundercracker just what he was doing during the fall of Praxus, and since then. Let the Seeker do the talking, and let li'l Blue here get some of the answers he wants. Why make it easy on the slaghead if it's going to be uncomfortable for our Blue?”

 

“You said you think he already views you as an ally, so why don't you play on his guilt?” Sunstreaker muttered, adding his opinion. “If the fragger feels any guilt that is. Cry about how much you miss your creator and how mean the trine was to take him away from you and I bet he cracks. If the coding is like you said it is anyway.”

 

The others stared at Sunstreaker, who didn't notice for a moment as he was busy admiring the finish on his arm and spot polishing an unnoticeable blemish. He finally noticed the weight of their stares and looked up. “What?” he growled defensively.

 

“That.. is actually a good idea,” Bee murmured.

 

“Well don't sound so surprised!” Sunny snarled. “I'm not stupid.”

 

“No, no, that's not what I mean, I just meant it's an angle I hadn't considered, and it might be easier for Blue to manage,” Bumblebee hastily assured the volatile golden warrior.

 

“Actually.... yeah, it might be easier,” Bluestreak mused, putting a finger to his chin. “It would certainly be easier than making nice, and might even get me a few answers about some things I've always wondered. I mean, not just about where Prowl is, but like why the Seekers attacked Praxus, why they would destroy a city full of neutral Seeker-kin. I wonder if he was there...” He trailed off, and the room was silent as they all wondered.

 

“Well, whatever you do, I hope it helps,” Hound said when the silence went on for longer than a few moments. “What time do you have to go?”

 

“In just a few breem,” Bluestreak answered after checking his chronometer. “And that's the other thing, why does this have to happen during my free time?” he pouted, and the others chuckled, agreeing with him. They talked for a bit longer until Jazz pinged Bluestreak to tell him it was time for the visit. He sighed, but got up, telling everyone he'd see them later. They wished him good luck and he left.

 

…..

 

Bluestreak headed down the corridor towards the room Jazz had assigned for these 'visits', meeting up with Ironhide on the way. He chatted at the gruff old red mech, hardly pausing as they entered the room and sat down on the couch. Thundercracker and Jazz were already there- Thundercracker in the loveseat again and Jazz perched on one of the couch's arms- but Blue barely acknowledged them until almost a breem had passed. It was rude, yes, but he needed the time to gather himself and figure out how he was going to manage the rest of this visit. At least this time it wasn't as hard to control himself and his anger when he turned away from Ironhide and looked at he Seeker.

 

Pulling in a big vent then releasing it slowly, Bluestreak nodded at Thundercracker. “Hello Thundercracker, how are you?” Bluestreak said, voice even and field not quite neutral, but at least not lashing out.

 

“... I am fine,” Thundercracker answered- surprised at being addressed directly when it had looked like the young Praxian was going to spend the session ignoring him- then hesitantly added “I am surprised that you would visit me again.”

 

“Okay, I can't lie and say I am really happy to be here, but there are some things I would like to know,” Bluestreak admitted, ignoring the warning comm he got from Jazz. “I kinda get why you would take Prowl, since you sorta explained that- even though I miss him so much and really really want him to come home. But there are so many other things I just don't get. There are some things I need to know. And until I know them, it makes it really hard for me to like you,” Bluestreak said all in a rush, field slipping some of the control he'd wrangled and giving a brief spurt of anger and frustrated confusion.

 

Thundercracker reacted to the teek with a quiet, open field of his own offering comfort. “What is it that you need to know?” he asked softly, though there was a tension around his optics and mouth that suggested he knew what those things were and dreaded the questions.

 

“Why?” Bluestreak asked, voice tight, and in that word was all a sparkling's anguished confusion finally able to cry out to the ones who had hurt him. “Why did you destroy Praxus? We were neutral, we were your kin, and there was no reason for it! I remember all of it, even though I was so young. Even though I wish I could forget. I remember the screaming Seeker engines overhead, and the whistling as the bombs fell, and the deafening explosions. How the crashes vibrated all the way through my protoform and the shaking felt like the whole world was quaking and the heat smacked against my doorwings and people screamed and everything was yellow and orange with flames, and how my carrier stumbled as he carried me down into a shop and down into it's lower level and how the bombs came closer and closer and the building fell on us and how it crushed his legs. He tried so hard to keep me from being scared and he held me, even after he went gray his arms were still around me and the only light in there was from the drying energon and my own optics and I was in the dark and the silence for so long-”

 

His voice cut off into static, and he keened. He came out of the memory quaking, doorwings quivering, with Ironhide and Jazz stroking his arms and helm, calling his name softly. His optics flashed pale and wide as he stared around, lost for a moment. Then they focused and he sucked in a rattling ventilation, and let it back out in a shaky ex-vent. Bluestreak shuttered his optics for a moment, patting Jazz's white thigh and Ironhide's silver one reassuringly. He opened them again and looked at Thundercracker with bright, piercing blue optics. “I need to know why,” he whispered, then fell silent, waiting for his answer.

 

Thundercracker let out a shaky ex-vent of his own, optics bleached with emotion. His cuffed hands curled and uncurled in his lap. His teek was nothing but _sorrow-grief-regret_ , and his wings quivered and hung low. He couldn't quite meet Bluestreak's optics when he found his voice to reply.

 

“I don't know why, I wish I knew. I have wondered the same thing since it happened. Praxus was more to me than just a sister-city, it held my mate and sparkling,” Thundercracker finally answered, voice crackling and low with his sorrow. “If I could have stopped it I would have. But I didn't even know it was happening until after the attack had started and I felt my sparkling-” a harsh swallow could be heard cutting off the word- “until I felt the sparkling bond shatter.”

 

Bluestreak and the two older Autobots stared at Thundercracker for a long moment. “But... how did you not know?” Bluestreak asked, confused. “You are part of the Command Trine, which is the trine of the Air Commander, the Winglord! How could you not know what the Seekers were doing?”

 

Thundercracker licked his lips and glanced between the Autobots sitting across from him. Bluestreak looked confused and devastated, maybe even the tiniest bit sympathetic, but Jazz looked calculating and watchful, and Ironhide looked mostly suspicious if perhaps a little sympathetic as well. This touched on some things that he had sworn to never reveal, things that his coding wouldn't let him speak of because they would reveal a weakness in his trinemate so he would have to tread carefully. Not to mention that were these things that Starscream would vengefully shred his wings for if he ever told them. But he had to say _something_ to explain and this might be one of his only chances to do so.

 

“Starscream is the Winglord, yes,” Thundercracker said, then started to explain, “But he was new and young to it when the war started, having only returned to Vos and taken up his duties after Skyfire was lost, and presumed dead. He took up the mantle not many vorns before Vos was razed, which was also just shortly before Sentinel Prime was killed. But the title of Air Commander didn't come until _after_ Praxus. You see, I wasn't always trined to Starscream and Skywarp, not until just orns before Praxus. We had just trine-bonded and were busy settling into it, far away from the front lines. Starscream had left several dozen squadrons of our forces with Megatron while we were elsewhere. He needed them for defense he said, and to watch the territory. We didn't know until we returned what had happened exactly, though we knew _something_ was wrong because of the news on the airwaves and because of the sparkling's bond breaking. Our squadron commanders told us the rest when we got there.

 

Megatron had ordered them to bomb the city while we were gone, saying that the Winglord had given him the right of command. Many objected to the target and refused. Most of the objectors were killed, to make an example of them, of what would happen if they disobeyed. Nearly a quarter of the forces we left with Megatron were killed by his own hand, or by his loyal troops, for defying him. The rest finally followed orders out of self preservation. When we returned and were told, we vowed to the squadrons that such a thing would never happen again. All of us- every single Seeker- confronted Megatron with weapons already powered up. Starscream let him know that from that moment on, Starscream was the only Air Commander, and no one else would give orders to Seekers or _all_ of us would leave- but we would only be leaving after we had killed him if he dared ever try this again. Megatron of course agreed, since he couldn't fight hundreds of Seekers and survive. Not even _he_ is that strong.

 

He accepted and Starscream became Air Commander, and all Seekers followed only the commands with his seal on them. But, well, we still believed in Megatron and his cause then. However, as Megatron's power grew, and our forces fought and killed yours, our options dwindled. I mean, Seekers have always only been a fraction of Megatron's forces, and that fraction get's smaller each battle as more of us die. We haven't the strength now to take over, or to fight our way out. Megatron would destroy us before letting us go. Even now, he splits us up, and has his one-opticked guardian watch us. And we can't exactly just hop over to your side now can we? Too much energon spilled, too much hatred, too many mistakes and hurt sparks.” Thundercracker concluded, then he rubbed his face and slumped in his chair with a weary ex-vent.

 

…

 

A long strained silence followed. Well, no words were spoken aloud, but the Autobot's comms were quite noisy.

 

::Is he telling the truth Jazz? Do you think that what he's saying is what happened?:: Bluestreak asked the black and white mech.

 

::I dunno, baby Blue, no way ta know f'r sure. But I'd bet ya my own spark tha' it's true. His teek's too sincere, too anguish'd ta be faked, an' his wings reflected his emotions. Ev'n if he had the trainin' ta fake his teek, an' the control ta keep 'is wings fr'm movin', there would be tells tha' I could see, if his feelin's were off fr'm what he displayed. But it was all genuine, far as I c'n tell. Tha's somethin' I c'n tell ya at least. Whether 'r not he's really sorry 'bout bein' a 'Con, he is at least really truly sorry 'bout Praxus,:: Jazz replied, meeting Bluestreak's gaze, then lifted his visor to give Ironhide a questioning glance. ::Whatcha thinkin' 'Hide?::

 

::I'm thinkin' that he left some things out, but that he's probably tellin' the truth,:: Ironhide said after a moment's thought. ::I don't think he'd lie about a sparkling of his own dying. Don't think even a 'Con would make up something like that. Especially since we can check for a broken bond like that, even if it happened that long ago. 'Sides, I agree about his teek- too real to be lyin'.::

 

Bluestreak tuned them out as the two older mechs continued to debate various points of Thundercracker's explanation, and just looked at the Seeker. Thundercracker wasn't looking at them, instead he was staring at his own hands laying limp and palm up in his lap. He looked so defeated and regretful that Bluestreak found some of his hard feelings losing a tiny bit of their edge. Just a little. But it was enough that he thought perhaps the rest of the visit wouldn't be so difficult.

 

He still wanted answers though, and decided maybe now was the time to try Sunstreaker's idea. Bluestreak stood up, which caught the attention of Jazz and Ironhide who had still been debating around him. He waved them off when Ironhide sent him a questioning comm, and stepped closer to Thundercracker's seat. When the Seeker didn't look up, he knelt in front of him and caught his optic.

 

“I'm not sure if I can forgive you,” Bluestreak began, looking up at the sad red optics and white face staring down at him. “I kinda want to believe that you had nothing to do with the fall of Praxus, if only because you are going to be tied to Prowl and me through the sparkling. But I have spent a long long time hating Seekers, and I don't know if I will ever be able to let it go completely.” He paused, and gathered himself, stuffing down his reflexive fear and anger, his teek and doorwings rising with his determination and enforced calm. He didn't look away as he shuffled closer on his knees, until he was nearly pressed up against Thundercracker's shins. Then, slowly and deliberately, he reached out and captured Thundercracker's dark hands in his own. Holding them up, Bluestreak leaned in until he could rest his cheek on their joined hands. Looking up with wide bright optics, doorwings fluttering with repressed feelings, Bluestreak took a deep in-vent and studied the astonished Seeker for a moment, before he started talking.

 

“Please, I want my creator. I lost everything on that orn, except for Prowl. I don't know what I will do if I lose him too. Can I at least talk to him? Send a message maybe? Please?” Bluestreak pleaded, voice small and spark-breaking. “I know you are protecting him and the sparkling, but I swear, I would never hurt them- they are my _kin_. I want them safe too, but I also think they will be safer _here_. There is strong energon here, and a medic who knows everything about carrying and sparklings. And here they will be safe from getting found by Megatron, or anyone else that might hurt them. They would never be alone, someone would always be near to defend them, and we'd fight to our last sparkpulse to keep them safe. Please, I want to know Prowl is alright. He must be so lonely, and maybe... maybe even scared. And I miss him _so much_. And I'm scared too. Can you at least let us talk to him, or pass on a message?” He gave Thundercracker another big-opticked look, EM field full of _please-worried-longing_.

 

...

 

Looking down on that sad turbopuppy look, Thundercracker could practically feel his resistance melting. Slag him, but the little gray Praxian knew just what buttons to push, and his coding was lapping it up. He'd managed to shore up his defenses while alone in his cell overnight, reminding himself and his kin protocols that this Praxian was full grown, and not tied to his trine. By the time he was brought back here he was confident that he could keep the coding from activating further. But everything Bluestreak did and said just tore right through those arguments like an insubstantial hologram and hit those protocols hard. At this point, Thundercracker couldn't even say he disagreed with his coding, but oh, did it put him at a disadvantage!

 

Sighing, Thundercracker leaned a little closer to Bluestreak and squeezed the hands wrapped around his. “I don't know, young one,” he finally answered. “I want to let you talk to Prowl, but there are too many risks. And as confident as you are that your fellow Autobots can take care of him and keep him safe, there is still the fact that the sparkling needs fortifying merges for quite a while yet.” Thundercracker shook his head and talked over Bluestreak's protests. “ _No_ , you can't say that if Prowl was here that your leaders would let Skywarp come here too. We both know there are too many complications, and not enough trust. He's perfectly safe where he is. Yes, perhaps a bit bored and lonely, but safe. And my trine can know the instant he needs any help through the mate-bond, and Skywarp can be at his side in an instant, literally.” Thundercracker's tone was apologetic, but firm.

 

Bluestreak shuttered his optics and ex-vented, doorwings drooping, not bothering to hide his frustration. He sat with his helm on their hands for a long tense moment, before perking back up, a possibility occurring to him. “You said you could talk to him through the mate-bond. Could you please let me at least talk to him that way, relay what I say, let me know how he's doing?” Bluestreak asked, excited and hopeful. “Please! There would be no risk that way, right? It would work!”

 

Thundercracker glanced away from the pleading mech before him to shoot a wary look at the two Autobots seated on the couch. He could see the surprise on Ironhide's face, but it was the calculation and quickly hidden glee from Jazz that made him hesitate before answering. “I... I could do that,” Thundercracker admitted slowly, but quickly added, “But! I won't do it if there's anyone else in the room but you and I! I can agree to letting Prowl's kin, his creation, talk to him, but _no one else_. No one else in the room, no one else watching, no one else listening in. Those are my conditions. If your commanders will let me do it my way, then you can talk to your creator.”

 

Bluestreak gaped up at him, then turned to look at Jazz and Ironhide. Jazz looked back, a small smirk on his face. Ironhide was scowling at Thundercracker and muttering about presumptuous prisoners and arrogant Seekers. Jazz glanced between Bluestreak's pleading look and Thundercracker's suspicious one, then held Thundercracker's gaze and shrugged. “There's a few issues tha' needta be worked out 'fore that c'n happen, but I'll bring it up ta Prime an' let him decide. In the mean time, I think this visit's over, an' we should let Bluestreak get back ta his free time.” He stood up and held out a hand to Bluestreak.

 

Bluestreak's disappointment at the delay and hope both swirled through his teek, but he slowly released Thundercracker's hands and let Jazz help him up. Jazz passed him off to Ironhide and the two walked out of the room, Bluestreak looking back once before they passed through the door. Thundercracker watched them leave then turned back to the black and white mech standing in front of him.

 

“Now, let's get ya back ta your cell, an' _then_ we c'n negotiate some more 'bout how you want this conversation wit' Blue an' Prowl ta happen,” Jazz said, as he gestured for Thundercracker to stand, and took his elbow when he did to lead him back to the brig.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 

 


	23. Fuel for the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter up. The Easter hols and having a houseguest put a hold on my writing time, and I had to make up for it. But here's the next installment, and we should be back to the regular 10 day posting ^_^

-=-=-=-

 

The next day came fast and with a bang. Almost literally. A call to arms came in the early morning hours- the Decepticons were raiding again. It was a civilian shipyard this time, and the Decepticons were pillaging the oil tankers in port, turning the crude oil into energon, as well as ransacking what they could from the container ships and gathering supplies for their projects.

 

The Autobots, unfortunately, didn't arrive in time to stop them entirely. The port under attack was on the African coast, and was not a place the non-flier Autobots could get to quickly. The Aerialbots and Powerglide sped ahead of the main group of Autobots, who were aboard Skyfire. Cosmos was already overhead and keeping them updated, identifying and relaying which Decepticons were there. Fortunately, it was a relatively small force they were facing. Unfortunately, it was all heavy hitters, with the Constructicons, Megatron, and both triple-changers -Astrotrain and Blitzwing- plus Blast Off. Starscream was there, directing the Constructicons, and Skywarp, who was providing lookout.

 

The Autobots had a few of their heavy hitters as well with Ironhide, Optimus, and the twins, but because of space constraint in Skyfire's hold most of their fighters were minibots. Windcharger, Warpath, Cliffjumper, Bumblebee, and Brawn were formidable fighters, and their smaller size would come in handy at the cramped ship- and- container filled dockyard. However, their stature put them at a bit at a disadvantage against the size of the triple-changers and Constructions. Especially Devistator, should the Constructicons form him. At least the Aerialbots could counter that with Superion if the need arose.

 

The Aerialbots and Powerglide engaged before the rest of the Autobots were even halfway to the battle. Harrying the Cons and keeping them grounded until Skyfire arrived, the Bot fliers caught the attention of Blitzwing in particular by scoring a few good hits against his back. He roared in rage and transformed to chase them in the sky, allowing the dockworkers he had been threatening to flee to safety. Blast Off added his gun to the mix but stayed on the ground, protecting the pile of energon cubes while Astrotrain was loaded up. Starscream shouted orders at the Constructicons to continue their tasks, then took off to fight the jets, Skywarp at his side. Megatron hollered his own commands, and raised his cannon to fire.

 

The ferocity of Blitzwing and the experience of the Seekers was working against the Autobot fliers. Air Raid was forced to land, wings tattered and engine trailing smoke from a glancing blow from Megatron's fusion cannon. Slingshot took a direct hit from Blast Off that sent him offline and falling, and he barely regained consciousness in time to keep from crashing. Luckily, Powerglide kept the brown and purple shuttleformer busy long enough for Slingshot to recover. And about that time their back up arrived.

 

Skyfire announced his arrival with a rain of lazerfire that forced the Decepticon fliers away from the Aerialbots and sent Blitzwing away, howling with a scorched nosecone, long enough for them to regroup. Flying low and hovering over the dockside, he lowered his rear bay door and the rest of the fighters jumped out. Once they were all on the ground he closed the hatch and veered off to lend support to the Aerials.

 

Optimus barreled towards Megatron and engaged the fearsome gray mech, while Ironhide and the twins went for the Constucticons. Sunstreaker managed to take Scavenger by surprise, and a sucker punch took him offline, and therefore out of the fight along with the Constructicon's ability to form Devastator. The minibots ranged out, and did what they did best. Brawn and Warpath entered the fray, while Cliffjumper set up on a perch and put that big gun of his to work blasting at Blast Off and distracting him from retaliating against Powerglide. Windcharger and Bumblebee looked for any trapped dockworkers, helping to get the last of the humans to safety. When they were sure they had gotten them all safely away from the conflict, the two headed back to their comrades. Windcharger used his magnets to distract and defend, using shipping containers as cover and ammunition, stacking them up as barriers or throwing them at the Decepticons. Bumblebee used his skills to keep his friends' backs covered, watching their six, and keeping tabs on the Decepticons, relaying their positions and giving warnings. His guns may not be powerful enough to kill in one hit, but he was the master of the strategically placed shot to distract and disarm, and Bee kept the Decepticons off balance.

 

A short but intense battle later, Megatron called retreat. Optimus had managed to score a powerful hit to the warlord's side, and Megatron was bleeding energon terribly. Grabbing armfuls of energon and their fallen gestalt-mate, the Constructicons took off. Astrotrain left with a half-full cargo hold and a battered Blast Off followed him, taking a few last pot shots at Powerglide. Megatron turned as he rose on his antigravs, and fired at the remaining energon cubes and fuel barrels. Ironhide barely had enough time to jump behind some cover before the pile exploded. Warpath wasn't as lucky, and was tossed aft over helm, crashing into a stack of containers, unconscious and with armor burned and smoking. Blitzwing, Starscream, and Skywarp provided cover fire for the others as they quitted the field, then turned and fled behind them.

 

Optimus watched Megatron leave, optics hard over his battlemask, and energon trailing from a deep wound on his left arm. Once it was clear that they Decepticons would not be returning, he turned to his troops and checked their status.

 

“Windcharger, quickly help Ironhide get those shipping containers off of Warpath, and everyone ping me your status,” Optimus called, aloud and over comms. Answers pinged back. Skyfire was already on the ground, rendering first aid to the downed Air Raid. Slingshot was wounded, but able to make it back on his own. The rest of the Aerials and Powerglide were singed and scorched, but able to fly home as well. Windcharger and Bumblebee were unharmed, but Brawn's knee was slagged. Ironhide had some minor wounds from the fight, and the twins had their fair share as well. Sideswipe in particular had a shoulder that was crushed and misaligned from a particularly enraged blow from Bonecrusher. Aside from Air Raid, the most seriously injured was Warpath, who was still unconscious and sporting wounds from burns and shrapnel.

 

“Alright, let's get the wounded secure and then we can go back to base,” Optimus said once he'd gotten their responses, then he commed the fliers. ::Powerglide, you head on home. Aerialbots, you too. We'll get your brother home. All of you, especially you Slingshot, report to medbay, and give them a heads up on what's coming in.:: He relayed a file with their status and how many wounded to Silverbolt, then sent them on their way.

 

The fliers dipped their wings in acknowledgment and veered off, headed home. Optimus watched them leave then turned as Skyfire walked up, carrying Air Raid. “I'll take him, Skyfire,” he offered, holding his arms out for the young jet. “As soon as you transform, we can load up the injured and head home.”

 

Skyfire nodded and handed off the injured Aerial, then transformed. Optimus walked up the lowered ramp, and settled Air Raid into place, then helped the other wounded in. Sunstreaker and Ironhide carried Warpath in on a stretcher, and laid him down. Sunstreaker turned to help Sideswipe stagger in, while a limping Brawn was helped up the ramp by Bumblebee. Windcharger secured the stretcher to floor so that Warpath wouldn't shift if there should be turbulence or if Skyfire needed to make evasive maneuvers, and then he found his seat. Everyone on board, Skyfire brought the ramp up and they flew home.

 

…

 

Ratchet stood under the hot shower and sighed. It felt good to let the steaming water flow over his armor and under it, sluicing away the grime and fluids from surgery. The heat relaxed some of the tension in his cables and he was grateful for the relief. He'd had a busy day after everyone returned from the battle.

 

They had wheeled the wounded in and set to work. Ratchet sent Sideswipe and Brawn with First Aid, while Perceptor and Wheeljack- and Skyfire after his own scorched armor had been tended to- handled the minor damages of the others. Sideswipe sat on a med berth, waving off First Aid to help Brawn first. First Aid did so, reluctantly, but made sure Sideswipe was hooked up to an energon feed and monitors first, with Sunstreaker sitting next to him as extra insurance that he'd stay put.

 

A scan to Warpath revealed that he wasn't as damaged as he looked, his processor had just been rattled enough to send him offline- the equivalent of a bad concussion. They would keep a scan on him just in case, but self repair could handle it. He would online eventually, with a bad headache. In the meantime Ratchet went to the more gravely injured Air Raid, and gave Warpath's care over to Wheeljack, who began applying burn salve, removing shrapnel, and welding where needed. Thankfully none of the shrapnel had managed to penetrate far, and they didn't have to worry about dangerous leaks. When that was done, Wheeljack headed over to Brawn's berth to help First Aid in replacing his knee joint.

 

Next up, Air Raid, who Ratchet quickly put under and began to work on. Poor youngling had barely been able to transform to root mode his damage was so severe. The wings would have to wait until Ratchet could get Air Raid's internals stabilized. The cannon shot had blown through the side of his engine, and tore up the Aerialbot's pelvic assembly. The heat from the blast had melted wires and burned through fuel lines, and caused a small rupture in his fuel tank. Luckily Skyfire had been able to get to him before he died of energon loss. The jetling would need a new hip joint though, and he'd spend quite a while recovering in the medbay.

 

Ratchet had just finished welding the tank and was in the middle of replacing the fuel lines when Sunstreaker shouted. Sideswipe had keeled over on his berth, the monitors connected to him going mad, and a puddle of energon was forming under him.  Sunstreaker was clutching his hand and yelling. “First Aid, Perceptor, finish these lines!” Ratchet barked as he rushed to Sideswipe's side. First Aid nodded, and left Brawn to Skyfire and Wheeljack's care and hurried with Perceptor to Air Raid.

 

Ratchet quickly scanned Sideswipe and swore. The crushed shoulder wasn't as minor as it looked. The clavical strut had sheered off and become like a dagger, slicing through energon lines and managing to scrape Sideswipe's spark chamber. Pressure from the crumpled metal around the lines had compressed the tubes and kept him from bleeding out, but the pressure in the lines had built up until they burst. The sudden gushing release caused the broken strut to move, creating a breach in Sideswipe's spark chamber. It was jolted even further by Sideswipe's sudden slump. Ratchet scrambled to peel back the damaged plates quickly and carefully as he could without jostling the strut any more. Then it was a race to seal off the energon lines and weld the chamber before a critical loss of power happened.

 

Ratchet did it, managed to stem the flow and get the chamber resealed. He saved Sideswipe, but it was more excitement than he wanted in a day's work. The glitch-head fragger should know better than to wave off medical attention. Just because he can walk _into_ the medbay doesn't mean he will walk _out_! Oh, but he knew who needed help more than him- well, who were the medics, hm? Primus damnit, let them do their job and scan you, and let _them_ tell you if you need help right then or not! Sighing again, and leaning against the wall of the washrack, Ratchet vowed that he was going to give that geared up slagger _such_ a lecture that he'd never pull a stunt like that again. And if that didn't work, then a wrench upside the head and a stint as his medbay scrubber might do the job.

 

Turning the shower off, Ratchet headed to the dryer, letting the hot air whistle through is plating and whip the water away. Grabbing a towel to get the last few damp places, he left the washracks and headed to his office. Checking the recharging patients there, namely Warpath, Air Raid, and Sideswipe, he was pleased to see that they were quiet and stable. Pleased that they were doing fine, he resumed course for the office, absently toweling off. He settled into his desk chair, dabbed at the last drops on his legs, and tossed the towel in the hamper by the door. Leaning back and propping his peds up on his desk, Ratchet grabbed one of the many datapads full of reports and records off it's surface. Might as well get some paperwork done while the slag-heads were in recharge and it was quiet.

 

Half way through the report about Air Raid's recovery, something started nagging in the back of Ratchet's processor. Something about the projected numbers, the amount of time it would take the jet to be back up and running with full reserves... Trying to find the connection his mind was making, Ratchet scrolled back through Air Raid's medical files. He didn't find anything unusual, no difference that stood out, but on a hunch he pulled up Sideswipe's file and ran a comparison.

 

Reading them, Ratchet's optics widened in surprise, his peds thumping down to the floor as he sat up, and he pulled up more Autobot's files to confirm the trend. And it was there- the Autobots were healing up faster since their arrival on Earth, getting their reserves full faster. There were even a few who had been taken off of supplemental minerals they'd been taking for _vorns_ because they were no longer needed. In fact, _all_ of them were showing a robustness of protoform that was unusual. The Aerialbots' record didn't show it as much because the younglings were so, well, _new_ , but even they showed an enhancement in protoforms and healing factor since coming online here. Sitting back, Ratchet stared at the ceiling without seeing it, puzzling over the new development.

 

Out of curiosity, Ratchet pulled up Thundercracker's file. He didn't have the Decepticon's full medical history, but he did have readings from when the Seeker was first brought in and various scans leading up to the one taken just yesterday. The results of the first scan of the injured Decepticon showed that it definitely wasn't just being _present_ on this planet that was improving their health- the Seeker had been barely fueled enough for combat, few if any reserves, and his protoform had shown thinning in some places from privation. Ratchet frowned. If the Decepticons were all as bad off as Thundercracker, there would be mechs dropping soon. Then again, fliers required more fuel than grounders, and if Megatron wasn't taking that into account...

 

Either way, it was the scans after that that had Ratchet's attention, and he reluctantly pushed his healer's concern away. Nothing he could do for the rest of the Decepticons, anyway. But Thundercracker was already showing marked improvement. In four weeks, barely over two orns by Cybertronian time, Thundercracker's substructures had gained mass, his reserve tank had been filled, and old damage that had not healed well was already showing signs of starting to smooth over. It was the kind of improvement Ratchet would expect after a few _vorns_ of fueling well and not fighting, not just a few _days_! Sure, Thundercracker had been on a diet of potent medical grade until the last few solar cycles when he switched to regular, but that wasn't enough to account for _this_ kind of boost in healing!

 

Stunned, Ratchet's jaw dropped and he stared at the datapad, processor reeling, scrambling to find the reason. In a flurry of movement, Ratchet grabbed at datapads, snatching them up, reading and marking where the uptick in health really started, and transferring the data to a new 'pad. By the time he had gone through all of them, he was sure. All of them had been in various states of disrepair before arriving on earth. Even then, right after awakening their conditions had only upgraded slightly, in a slow steady climb as Ratchet took care of things. Then, suddenly, their healing and general health rose exponentially. And that rise started after the date they'd installed the new energon dispenser in the mess hall. The one that dispensed the new magma/geothermal derived energon that everybot enjoyed- enjoyed so much and was so abundant, they subsequently switched _all_ their dispensers to it.

 

Frowning, Ratchet got up and stalked into the medbay. He went over to the medical dispenser in the corner- one for patients and staff (so they didn't have to go all the way to the mess hall) that could produce regular or medical grade energon as needed – and drew a cube. Sniffing it, he couldn't detect anything different than usual. Tasting it, rolling it about his glossa with all his diagnostic chemoreceptors going full tilt, he didn't detect anything odd aside from a few minerals left over from the energon conversion process.

 

Slightly stumped and more than a little confused, Ratchet glared at the cube in his hand. As far as he could tell there was nothing different about this energon- certainly nothing that would cause such an up jump in their health. It looked like he would need a more in depth look into this.

 

Checking the shift schedules, he saw that the mech he wanted would still be up. ::Perceptor, are you busy?:: he commed.

 

::Hm? Oh, Ratchet. No, I suppose I am not too busy at the moment- I was just doing a bit of reading on some of the human's scientific journals. They have some intriguing notions about things.:: Perceptor replied, with a slightly distracted air.

 

::Well, I have something I need you to look into for me,:: Ratchet said, letting a hint of his seriousness and puzzlement slide into his comm voice. ::If you could meet me in the medbay?::

 

::Of course, Ratchet,:: Perceptor answered, curiosity piqued. ::I will be there in a few kliks.::

 

…

 

“I see what you mean, Ratchet,” Perceptor murmured, rubbing his chin. He had listened to Ratchet's findings and his theory, field full of interest and intrigue. “You say that you can not detect anything different about this energon aside from a few minerals?”

 

“Exactly,” Ratchet huffed, crossing his arms. “There is nothing in there to account for the improvements, but the only commonality in all the cases is the change in energon.”

 

“Hm,” Perceptor hummed as he bent over and peered at the innocuous cube of energon. “Perhaps it is something you can not detect, or a unique blend of elements, or even something completely new. I will be happy to investigate it for you.”

 

“Good,” the medic humphed, as he glared at the brightly glowing cube. “I want to know what is different about this energon, if anything, and I need to know if I need to recommend a change in supply. I hate to do that when I can't find any real reason to, especially as everymech likes it so much. After all, the data so far implies that if it _is_ the energon, then it certainly is _helping_ us, rather than hurting. Haven't seen any negative side effects yet anyway,” he finished with a shrug.

 

Perceptor blinked and looked up from his inspection of the energon cube. He turned wide optics to Ratchet, realization blooming through his field. “On the contrary, I rather think that there _are_. And I think you may have just discovered why Prowl went into heat despite our factions still being in the middle of a conflict, and it being such a relatively short time since we've finally had sufficient fuel.”

 

Ratchet's optics widened as well, as he thought about that possibility. Then he thought about how intense and unpredictable that heat had been for Prowl, then about how many others might become affected in different ways, and summed up his thoughts in one word-

 

“ _Frag_.”

 

-=-=-=-

 

 

 


	24. Raging Fire

-=-=-=-

 

The Decepticon base was quieter than usual. Megatron was resting in his quarters, recovering from the serious gash Optimus had given him. His power supply had been nearly crushed and his fuel tank punctured, which required more downtime than the warlord usually needed. It didn't help that Hook had to make do with repairing the power supply rather than replacing it, and the self repair that followed would therefore take longer. But despite the retreat and his damage, he'd seemed mostly pleased with the raid, and had given command over to Starscream and Soundwave while he recovered.

 

Starscream had sighed in relief and relaxed as soon as the warlord left the command center after announcing his absence for the next week and handing over command. “Alright, now that our mighty lord is down for his nap, let's get the energon and supplies we captured passed out to the right mecha,” Starscream said, heading out the door towards the special storage bay in which it had all been put. Soundwave gave him a long look, but followed him.

 

The storage room was on a middle deck- not so low as to risk being flooded, not too near the command deck or quarters as to take out anything important if it went boom, and yet central enough to be available when needed. It was also behind a reinforced door and had a highly encrypted lock that only the senior officers knew the algorithm for. (It was astonishing, yet also unsurprising, the number of times crew had tried to break in, especially Swindle.) The pile of energon was nice and high, and bright, showing it to be a rather high energy batch this time.

 

They began sorting it out, putting the energon into two piles, one for them and one to send through the space bridge to Shockwave. The other supplies Starscream went through, piling up the things he wanted and putting the rest in a bin for the Constructicons to collect. He unabashedly took the best pieces and probably more than he should have for his own projects. That done he turned and watched Soundwave put the last cubes in their places. He stood looking at the disproportionate piles and scowled. He'd never understood why they gave so much to Shockwave. Even with the troops left on Cybertron, Shockwave only needed about thirty percent of the hauls to keep them in rations, plus another five percent, _maximum_ , to go to experiments. The other sixty- to- seventy percent _should_ stay here to feed the main troops and their projects. Instead, they sent seventy-five percent to Shockwave and only kept twenty-five! It was an argument that had earned Starscream more than one beating. But Megatron was practically in medical stasis right now recovering, and Soundwave was, nominally, on his side, so Starscream decided to do something about it this time.

 

“Hm, I think the energon is nicely divided, and we had better get our share into the dispensery system don't you think?” Starscream said. When Soundwave moved towards the smaller pile Starscream tsked at him, which caused the Host to pause and look back at the Seeker. “Now, now, Soundwave, no need to bother with _Shockwave's_ share,” he said with a smirk and sarcastic emphasis on Shockwave's name. “We'll get to that later- for now let's just get our hard earned energon set up for our troops, shall we?”

 

Soundwave's visor brightened a little in surprise, but all he did was nod, and head towards the bigger pile and begin the process of feeding it into the dispenser tanks. Starscream grinned in triumph and helped him. When that was done, the tanks were almost half full, which was more than they had seen in quite a while.

 

Starscream looked at the gauge and ran a calculation. “Hrm, one or two more raids, even if they are only half as successful as this one, will top off our dispensers' tank and maybe give us enough to start in on the reserve tank. Perhaps while our fearsome leader is down for the count, I will lead a few smaller raids. It would be nice to be able to give the crew full rations for a while.”

 

“Affirmative,” Soundwave agreed, causing Starscream to startle. He'd almost forgotten the Host was in the room while he plotted and calculated. Soundwave had perfected the habit of keeping his field close and still, and his cassettes had learned their stealth from the best after all. A subtle telepathic impulse to ignore his presence certainly helped as well. “Soundwave: will help Starscream plan the small raids.”

 

Covering up his small surprise, the Seeker puffed up his plates to hide the flinchy movement and to show off as he took a pose, hip cocked out and hand on it, the other tapping at his chin. “Of course,” he said, voice full of smugness. “And no need to tell our esteemed leader about them until we have what we need. After all, we wouldn't want him to worry and slow his recovery, now would we?”

 

Soundwave just looked at the white Seeker blandly, but gave the impression of his brow ridge raising in skeptical amusement. “Affirmative,” was all he said, his harmonic voice the same tone as it ever was.

 

They packed the rest of the energon onto a pallet of things headed for the space bridge, an almost amiable air between them.

 

….

 

The small raids went off with out a hitch. They staged one raid a night for a week while Megatron healed and was away from the bridge. They were highly successful even, garnering more energon than they had been able to get in a long time. Taking place at night and hitting civilian facilities meant that they were able to sneak in and get more energon before an alarm rang out. Leaving as soon as they were noticed meant that there was no fighting in which to lose their loot or distract them, and no injuries to attend to or prevent them from collecting the cubes. The tanks were topped off and the troops were ecstatic that they were back up to full rations. Not everyone was happy with the sneaking around and lack of battles, but finally having enough energon to fill up on settled even the most hard core mech, at least for now.

 

Starscream debated with himself during the last day of Megatron's recovery whether to bring up another idea of his. He'd gathered enough parts and supplies in the last few decaorns worth of raids to make or repair a few more solar energy converters, and believed that they could set them up as a more steady source. They just needed to scout out a good secure area to put them that wasn't too far away and easy to defend. Or maybe even just set them up on the landing platform that breached the surface of the water. They would be more exposed there and vulnerable, but close and easy to defend and maintain. Yes, that would work. Their area of the ocean got good sun. Surely even Megatron could see the benefit of staying well fueled and creating more opportunities to gather energon. Starscream talked himself into bringing up the proposal when he showed Megatron the success of his week in command while the warlord convalesced. They even had a large pile of energon and supplies to ship off to, urgh, Shockwave, so it wasn't like he hadn't taking care of that obligation as well.

 

In fact, Starscream was feeling pretty smug and secure, when Megatron came back on duty. He brought his leader up to speed, explaining his actions and showing the results. He was confident in his success, and sure that Megatron would be pleased as well, especially as it helped the Cause and gave the troops here a much needed boost. Megatron watched and listened, field pulled close and unreadable, but his face was impassive. That gave Starscream confidence to continue, as usually by now Megatron would have displayed his displeasure if he disapproved. Obviously, then, his leader was pleased by his productivity. He preened as he finished up his presentation about his activities and the proposed energy converters. Turning to Megatron with a smirk, he was prepared to be praised for his efforts.

 

Which is why the backhand across his face surprised him so much. Looking up from the floor at his leader, Starscream gaped, one hand bracing himself and the other pressed to his dented cheek. “Wha-” he began to ask, but was cut off when Megatron reached down and grabbed his throat. He hung from his leader's big black hand as he was pulled up and then slammed into the computer console from which he'd made his report, bent backwards over it awkwardly as Megatron loomed menacingly over him.

 

“Why is it, Starscream, that you always overstep your bounds?” Megatron asked, his voice a low snarling rumble.

 

“M-my Lordkkk, I don'kkkt undersssskskskstand,” Starscream choked out, pulling at the hand squeezing his throat. The pressure bearing down on him was already beginning to make his visual feed go spotty, static creeping in at the edges of his view of Megatron's snarling face. But he didn't need to see to feel the rage in Megatron's EM field. It pressed down on him even more than the hand, the teek overwhelming and engulfing, whipping and slashing at his own field.

 

“Then let me spell it out for you _Air Commander_ ,” Megatron replied with a growl. “You forget your place, it seems. _I_ am the one who commands our soldiers, who decides when they fight. You do not do _anything_ without my word! You have stolen enough power from me. If I didn't need you for your control of the Seekers I would have killed you long before this, you treacherous glitch-spawn. That is the only reason you command at all. If I didn't still need Shockwave on Cybertron, you would be lucky to be _functioning_ , let alone my Second in Command.”

 

Starscream's optics widened, and panic flared through his field. Megatron had never spelled it out so bluntly before. Oh, he'd hinted and threatened and implied, but never flat out said that he only kept Starscream around to control the Seekers. That he said it now sent a frisson of dread and worry through his spark. What had changed to make Megatron drop any pretenses? He frantically pulled up memory files, trying to find the cause. His thoughts flew away a moment later though as agony flared through his wing, and he shrieked.

 

Megatron had grabbed one of the Seeker's wings near the base with his free hand and was crushing it. His fingers sheared through the flat plane of the wing armor. Metal bent and tore under his fingers. Starscream writhed and clawed at him, kicking and struggling to get free get away, but Megatron used his longer reach and stronger, heavier frame to subdue him. Starscream was crushed under the bulk of gray armor. A crack formed on his cockpit glass from the pressure and his vents were warped, a shoulder wrenched as Megatron released his neck to corral his arms. More shrieks followed as Megatron twisted his handful of wing again and again, a new spot each time. He peeled the armor back slowly. Energon flowed from the wound, and over the hand that reached for a more devastating grip. The move caused a new high pitched cry, ending in a shattering scream as a vicious wrench snapped the main strut in the wing.

 

Megatron released his hold on the trembling Seeker and stepped away. Starscream slid down the console and fell into a heap in front of it. A whimper escaped as the movement jarred his wing. He looked up through fritzing optics. Baleful red optics stared back down at him, glowing energon slowly dripping off the fist at the warlord's side. Starscream's optics locked on to the drop, the fist seeming to fill his view full of silent potent threat, hanging at optic-level as he knelt on the floor. Lowering his optics, Starscream watched the small puddle form by Megatron's ped, each drop adding a new little splatter of energon. He flinched when Megatron shifted, but the warlord merely pulled a cloth from subspace and wiped his hand. Moving away a few steps, Megatron sat in his enormous command chair.

 

Silence descended, aside from the sound of Starscream's harsh pained venting and the drip of energon. Starscream shuddered, white hot agony pulsing from his wing with every miniscule movement, sharp and stabbing, from his broken strut. The crushed sensors shrieked random bursts of pain and confusing signals. Coupled with the pain, the dizzying, confusing signals were threatening to make him purge. Leaking energon traced lines of fire over the broken sensors and torn wires. He looked down. There was a growing puddle of energon under him. One of the major lines in his wing must have been torn, and if it wasn't tended soon, he might actually pass out from energon loss.

 

“Come here.”

 

Megatron's voice broke the silence, making Starscream startle and have to bite back a whimper in pain. The white Seeker reached up to the console, bracing to stand, but again Megatron called out.

 

“No, no need to stand. You can come to me as you were- on your hands and knees,” Megatron drawled. He watched as Starscream's head whipped to look at him, affront and refusal on the Seeker's face. He leaned forward in his chair, field swirling warningly, dangerously around the room. “You can come to me in the proper manner or I'll not only tear your wings _off_ , I will crush your peds so that you have no _choice_ but to crawl like the coward you are.”

 

Starscream stared at him, but there was no mercy or leniency in that gaze. Slowly he let go of the console and dropped down to hands and knees. A cry of pain was stifled as the change in orientation moved the strut in the wing, rubbing the ends together and making it scrape against different things and create new damage. What was worse was that now, with the flat of his wing parallel to the floor instead of the strong leading edge, he could feel the weight of the unsupported end past the broken strut begin to bend. Every movement he made, as he began his slow crawl to Megatron's chair, caused it to jiggle and bend more. He was panting and whimpering in the back of his throat by the time he made it to Megatron's peds.

 

Megatron stared down at him impassively for a small eternity before he suddenly leaned forward and gripped Starscream's jaw, squeezing his cheeks painfully. He forced the trembling Seeker's head up to look him in the optic. “I am your master, your Lord. It would be best if you remember that. You think I didn't notice how you defied me, how you changed the distribution of the energon you gathered? That you didn't send Shockwave the amount that I ordered? I will be taking that deficit out of your share of the energon. You are lucky I don't take it out of your plating!” he snarled into Starscream's face. He pushed Starscream away roughly. The Seeker fell over, crying out as the damaged wing bent under him. He watched Starscream writhe, silent as the screams backed up in his vocalizer.

 

It took Starscream long moments to still, panting in pain. Megatron leaned back in his chair, satisfied. “Remember your place. You made your oath to _me_. And you had better improve your loyalty and your competence if you want to survive, you and your precious Seekers. Between your trinemate's capture and your presumptuous power grabbing ways, I'm tempted to be rid of the lot of you.” He smirked at the jet looking at him with fearful, pain filled optics. “I think I have made myself clear. Now leave.”

 

Starscream looked at the door on the other side of the large room. A cautious glance at Megatron, then he dropped his optics. Slowly, biting through his lip to keep from crying out at every movement from his dangling wing, Starscream got back on his hands and knees and crawled laboriously to the door.

 

“Oh, and Starscream,” Megatron called, just as the Seeker reached to door. Freezing, Starscream looked back at him. “Decepticons are not cowardly sneak thieves. We don't need to hide from the pathetic Autobots or the puny human. There will be no more of your pitiful raids- we are not weak, we are not afraid, and we _conquer_. Decepticons don't have to hide and steal like _weaklings_.”

 

Starscream flinched, nodded, and finally was allowed to escape.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Starscream finally let the trinebond open when he reached the hallway. He let his trinemates know what had happened, and they responded. Thundercracker pulsed his love and concern, even as he burned in his helplessness. But Skywarp was immediately by his side, arriving in a flash of purple and cloud of _fretting-worry-anger_ teek. He gently gathered Starscream up and warped them to the medbay.

 

Hook fixed the broken wing strut with much grumbling and cruel remarks. Starscream was just grateful that Megatron was allowing him to get it fixed. There were many times when Starscream had been banned from the medbay in further punishment after a being injured, whether from a battle or a beating.

 

The Constructicon turned surgeon/medic did what he could, but some of the sensors being replaced would need further work. Hook never had figured out the proper way to adjust the sensitive flight sensor in wings. He also never took criticism well, and the Seekers had long ago learned not to try to correct the egotistical mech. Hook insisted that the way he fixed the sensors was the correct and optimal way. The Seekers learned to agree, and then just have Starscream or a trinemate tweak them later, then run recalibrations and readjustments until the readings came back correct. Therefore, as soon as Hook proclaimed he was done with the wing and that the rest would have to just wait on self-repair, Starscream slipped off the berth and walked out. Even though the wildly differing sensor reading in each wing made him dizzy and unsteady.

 

Skywarp waited for him just outside the door, and by mutual agreement he warped them to their quarters just long enough to grab a few needed items and then with another _vwop_ they left for their island refuge.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

-=-=-=-

Prowl heard the sound of Skywarp's teleportation and stood, waiting to greet the Seeker. He was surprised when instead of just one black Seeker, in came two, the black wings he was expecting accompanied by white red-striped wings. Skywarp supported a dented and wobbling Starscream who was streaked with drying energon. Prowl moved out of the way as they made their way to the berth where Skywarp helped Starscream to sit.

 

“I take it that there has been some fighting?” Prowl asked, watching Skywarp bustle around getting things off the shelves along the wall, and grab a few cubes of energon from the converter for his trinemate. Prowl walked over and plucked the cubes from his grip as everything threatened to topple from the juggled pile. The Praxian tipped his chin towards the tri-colored Seeker, and said “Get those supplies over to your trinemate before you drop everything. I will bring over enough energon for all of us while you help him.”

 

Skywarp mumbled an quick but grateful acknowledgment and hurried back to Starscream's side. Prowl watched for a moment, looking at all the repair supplies pulled out of the Seekers' subspace and accessing the damage. Then he followed 'Warp, set the cubes down, and walked over to get some more. He ferried over enough for them all to have two cubes with extra for the wounded Seeker, chain trailing and jangling the whole time.

 

Starscream looked up as Prowl set down his last handful of cubes, a pained expression on his face. “If you are done, will you please sit and stop rattling that Primus cursed chain? I feel like there is a knife stabbing my processor through my audials every time you scrape it along after yourself,” he complained- whined really though he would never admit it- and set down the tool he had been using to rub at his head.

 

Prowl just gave him a sardonic look, and gestured to the collar. “I assure you, Starscream, if I could take off the chain I would.”

 

Starscream huffed, a lopsided smirk on his dark face. “Yes, I'm sure you would. If I thought that you wouldn't find some means to escape or call for help within kliks of being released, I _might_ take it off, just to keep it from making noise. But we all know you are far too clever to be set loose.” He gave a weak grin as Prowl shrugged, an unapologetic look on his face. “See, so you will just have to be still for a bit, at least until my helm stops feeling like it will split every time you so much as twitch,” he grumbled as he turned back to the open panel in his wing.

 

Prowl was more than a little surprised that neither Seeker was watching him or making him stay away. They weren't even bristling in warning, and he was sitting very close to them while they were working on the most important part of a Seeker- their wings. Injured fliers, and Seekers in particular, were notoriously suspicious and paranoid when their wings were damaged. Only those trusted or medics required to repair the damage were allowed near. Obviously he was either considered a non-threat-- which his battle computer dismissed, especially since he had attacked Skywarp once already and displayed his ability to subdue them-, or kin coding was working in his favor.

 

Observing the repairs and tweaks made to the wing's sensors, Prowl traced the new weld marks with his optics. There was something off about the type of damage he could see. The entire front of Starscream was dented, and his canopy was cracked. Even his pectoral vents were warped slightly, turning fitfully, scraping, every now and then when the Seeker's pain or frustration activated his cooling fans. Starscream looked like he had run face first into a wall. But the damage to his wing... that looked more like something the twins would inflict. But there was some odd warping to the large armor plates and he noticed how carefully Starscream was moving the wing- he kept it stiff and Skywarp was helping to hold it up. That was unusual, to hold it that carefully. Even though it was while they were doing minor repairs, which required stillness, this level of fretful attention was odd.

 

Curiosity finally got the better of him, so he asked. “You never answered my first question. Where you in a battle?”

 

Both Seekers stopped what they were doing and looked at the black and white Praxian. Skywarp glanced and Starscream and shrugged. Starscream huffed irritably, but answered as he turned back to his wing. “Yes, we were in a battle- a week ago. That damage was minor and has since been repaired. No, this... this is Lord Megatron expressing his displeasure with me. _Apparently_ he disliked the fact that _I_ actually know how to lead and managed to obtain enough energon to feed our troops well for a while. So he tore my wing with his own hands and broke the strut.”

 

“ _What_?” Prowl blurted, doorwings swept wide and optics spiraling wide in surprise. “Why in the Pit would he punish you for doing something successfully? And he damaged your _wings_?” A tinge of horror and outrage at the thought of that kind of damage done deliberately just for punishment seeped into his teek.

 

Starscream smiled, a twisted unhappy kind of smile. “Because I did it by myself without his permission, while he was out of commission. OH, and I actually fed the troops instead of sending it all away to Cybertron,” he growled, making one last adjustment to a flight sensor, then shut the access panel. He shuttered his optics, made a few calculations and checked the recalibrations. A few moments of adjusting his sensor feed, and half the world finally stopped tilting and lurching nauseatingly. Sighing in relief, Starscream unshuttered his optics and looked at the Autobot in front of him, still staring at him with surprise. Raising a brow ridge, he snorted. “Come now, surely you aren't that surprised? You Autobots should know by now what kind of leader Megatron is. And this isn't the first time he's gone after my wings. Sometimes I almost think he's envious of them,” he said with a tired smirk.

 

Taking a moment to absorb that information, Prowl replied with the only thing he could think to ask- “How can you still stay and fight for him?”

 

Starscream shrugged his wing, while keeping the injured one still. The strut had been welded and wrapped with support that would be absorbed by self repair to strengthen it, but it was still tender and a weak point in the structure for a few more days until then. He had to be careful or it might heal warped. “I stay because I must. He's threatened to kill all the Seekers this time unless I cooperate, and this time I believe him. He's blustered about doing it before, but it was just a show of control. This time though... I fear for my Seekers. Megatron is even less stable and less tolerant than he was in the beginning.” A long tired sigh escaped his vents. “I find my flightpaths are all blocked- we can't stay but there is no safe place for us, and I can't leave Megatron or work against him now without paying for it dearly.”

 

“Have you considered defection? I can assure you that the Autobots would be happy to take you in, especially if it meant getting more fliers and taking away Megatron's air superiority,” Prowl offered somewhat eagerly. He opened his mouth to expand upon his offer, battle computer and all processors ready to lay out all the advantages and opportunities, but Starscream cut him off before he could get anything more out.

 

“Much as I'd like to take you up on that, I can't unfortunately,” the tri-colored Seeker said with a rueful grimace on his dark gray face. The Praxian looked like he was ready to stubbornly insist and keep prodding that point, so Starscream decided to distract him. “Anyway, I have had Thundercracker badgering me over the trinebond with news for _you_. It seems that your youngling, that little sniper of yours, has talked him and the command into letting you two have a conversation soon. He's still working out the details, but you will be able to talk to your creation.”

 

As distracts went it was a good one. It mostly worked. Prowl perked up, and he shoved the battle computer's results and additional queries into a background queue in favor of this new line of conversation- it wasn't forgotten by any means though and he _would_ come back to it later. “Bluestreak? Is he well? I admit I have worried about him- I've not been away this long without contact before. Well, not without warning, and certainly not as an captive guest. Why, and how, has Thundercracker been talking to him?” he asked, blue optics bright and doorwings forward attentively.

 

Distraction successful, Starscream smirked internally, as he answered the normally stoic Praxian who'd suddenly become all anxious creator in front of him. “Thundercracker has been getting visits from your youngling. Apparently Jazz and the rest of the Autobot command has finally found out about Seeker kin coding and is hoping to make a connection to TC through them. At least, that is what Thundercracker tells me.” What he wouldn't add is that Thundercracker admitted that the young Praxian had basically already wormed his way into those protocols. “So far he's talked to Bluestreak only a few times, but the little Praxian seems well enough. He's been asking after you, of course, and that's why they are working out a way for him to talk to you. They haven't decided how that will happen, yet, but they are negotiating.” He finished the last sensor repair and snapped the access panel shut.

 

Relaxing slightly, Prowl nodded and smiled just the slightest bit in relief, even as he added more factors to his calculations. He was always happy to hear about his adopted creation so he let the conversational redirection pass but made a note of it. But for now he was just pleased to know his Bluestreak was well. His doorwings fluttered just a little bit and his EM field warmed a smidge with the relief and joy he felt.

 

He refocused on Starscream as the mostly-white Seeker got up, and Skywarp stood as well. Those happy feelings warmed into something a bit different as he watched Starscream get up and walk around, the Seeker going over his calibrations again and checking to make sure his sensor readings remained stable. Even now, especially now, Prowl could not deny that he'd always found Seekers appealing and attractive. It was no hardship to sit and watch Starscream (who most would agree was a prime example of a Seeker) walk around with Skywarp hovering next to him, ready to catch him if he stumbled. Add to that the mate-driven attraction to Skywarp, who was a fine looking Seeker himself, and Prowl couldn't help the bloom of arousal that started filling his teek as well. It was almost inevitable with two pretty Seekers walking around were he could appreciate them. It also helped that there was no battle happening to distract him nor were they shooting at him (That admittedly took away some of the appeal, even as he could appreciate their fighting prowess, at least logically).

 

Skywarp caught the rising teek first, attuned to his mate as he was. He turned to Prowl, wings waving almost flirtatiously, and sauntered back over to the sitting Praxian. “Hey, Star, now that your sensors won't send you into the ground, why don't you take a loop around the island and make sure all the little tweaks you need are done, while I stay here and give my mate some attention?” he suggested as he stroked a hand over the still-fluttering door panels.

 

Prowl surprised all of them by saying “Who says he has to leave?” Starscream startled and turned from where he'd been headed to the door, and even Skywarp stopped petting his doorwings to look at him. Prowl blinked himself, then shrugged. “Well, my previously stated reasons still stand. I am willing to be a carrier-mate to the whole trine. I have to admit that there is certainly enough attraction on my part. You both are very good looking Seekers.” Even as he said it, Prowl ran his optics over their forms, though he did feel a little rush of coolant flush through his systems – embarrassed to have stated it quite so boldly.

 

Skywarp grinned, and sat on the berth next to Prowl, resuming his attentions to the doorwings, making Prowl purr. Looking at his trinemate with a slightly leering grin he said, “Well, what are you waiting for Star? If he says it's alright I'm more than fine with it.”

 

Hesitating for a moment more, Starscream turned back to the berth, walking over to join them. “Very well,” he said with a small one sided smile. Prowl watched him approach and couldn't help the appreciative light in his optics nor the inviting wiggle of his doorwings. Starscream preened under Prowl's approving gaze and put a bit of a strut into his last few steps. “You have good taste in mechs, I will give you that,” he said, looking down at the Praxian as he posed, hand on hip and wings flared wide, smirk firmly in place.

 

“No one has ever said that you weren't a good looking mech, Starscream,” Prowl allowed, as he appreciated the scenery, optics traveling up from blue peds, across those lovely wings and finally met the red optics watching him. “Some may think you arrogant or irritating, but none have ever thought you unattractive.” Reaching out a hand, Prowl wrapped it around Starscream's unoccupied hip and pulled him closer gently. He grabbed the other hip too, when Starscream dropped his hand from it in surprise.

 

Starscream snorted, but came willingly. “I don't think I have ever had such a backhanded compliment,” he chuckled. Stepping closer to Prowl as he sat on the side of the berth, Starscream stood with one of Prowl's knees on either side of his hips. The hands that pulled him close drifted up from red hips and splayed over his waist and the lower portion of his golden canopy, earning a pleased hum.

 

Skywarp grinned at his trineleader and scooted around behind their Praxian. He settled in kneeling behind Prowl, and set to stroking and playing with the doorwings that pressed back into his touch. “I'll just have fun with these pretty panels until it's my turn,” he smirked, before pressing kisses to the inner edge near the hinges.

 

Prowl's mouth fell open in a gasp, and he groaned in enjoyment, optics shuttering. He opened them when he felt a hand cup his cheek, and looked up into Starscream's face. The Seeker leaned down and kissed him, and Prowl let his optics shutter again, sinking into the kiss. Lips pressed and slid against his, and the tip of a glossa darted out and teasingly flicked along them. Prowl eagerly followed that teasing tip with his own, and the kiss grew more heated. Mm, say what you will about Starscream's other abilities, but by Primus, could the Seeker kiss. Caught between Starscream's talented mouth and Skywarp nibbling on his door hinges, Prowl's arousal quickly grew. Their cooling fans started up, and made a steady whirring accompaniment to the sounds of hands and mouths moving across plating.

 

Moaning softly into Starscream's mouth, Prowl slid his arms around the Seeker. Pulling him closer, Prowl gently ran his fingers along the join where white wings met backplates, dipping into the seams to stroke wires and play with hinges himself. Starscream pulled away from the kiss with a gasp when Prowl caressed the main hinge. Prowl's smirk morphed into a surprised sound of his own when strong blue hands grabbed his hips and yanked his aft to the edge of the berth.

 

The move jerked Prowl off balance, and he let go of Starscream as he fell back against the kneeling Skywarp behind him. The black Seeker merely snickered gleefully and leaned over slightly to nibble at Prowl's crimson chevron, wrapping his arms around the Praxian to both support him and fondle his chest. The move also put Starscream firmly between Prowl's thighs, and their modesty panels scraped together. Prowl made a soft noise as the slight vibration seemed to travel all the way through his array, and he wiggled his hips against Starscream's.

 

Chuckling lowly, Starscream dipped his fingers into the exposed hip joints under his hands to play with the wires and sensor bundles there. He greatly enjoyed the way Prowl writhed and cried out, rubbing their heated panels against each other. Bending closer, he removed one hand from Prowl's hip to tap a finger against the closed panel. “Open for me,” he purred into Prowl's audial.

 

The panel snapped aside immediately, and both secondary covers quickly opened as well when Starscream touched them. He played his fingers over Prowl's black and white spike in a dancing, teasing touch, before sliding his hand down to trace his finger around the edge of Prowl's valve. Prowl cried out and clutched at Starscream's shoulders. Skywarp made a pleased noise behind him, and nuzzled into his neck, nipping and sucking on the cables and lines there. Prowl tipped his head to give the black Seeker more access, even as he twitched his hips hoping for Starscream to do more.

 

Obligingly, Starscream slid one finger into Prowl's valve, savoring the moan he got in reaction. He watched the Praxian's face as he slowly slipped his finger in, then back out and in again. Curling his finger slightly, he glided it along a line of nodes, earning himself another pleasing noise. Bright blue optics looked back at him dazedly. Skywarp, watching Starscream tease his mate, enjoyed the view immensely as he nibbled at Prowl's neck cables and trace his fingers over headlights.

 

Starscream pumped his finger in Prowl's valve a few more times, then slowly added a second. Prowl let his appreciation be known with a shuddering groan, and slid his hands up to Starscream's shoulder vents, fingers slipping between the slats. Starscream hissed a pleased “Yes, do that!” in response, and he scissored his fingers, seeking out nodes and other sweet spots. When he was sure there was room, he paused just long enough to press in a third finger, then continued to move them while pressing his thumb to the bright glowing anterior node. Prowl cried out at the exquisite pressure, bucking his hips. He heard the sound of Starscream's panels sliding out of the way. “Please!” he moaned, as his hands gripped the shoulder vents he had been playing with and pulled the Seeker closer.

 

Starscream smirked and removed his fingers. Prowl let out a disappointed sound and tried to tug the white jet closer with his legs. “Please!” he said again, voice a little desperate. A chuckle in his audial on one side from Starscream, a nip on his neck the other side from Skywarp, but all he cared about was the lovely spike that was finally pressing into him. It was a blissful, stretching slide that filled his valve and activated all the nodes that had been missed before.

 

They froze for just a second all three of them, enjoying the moment, and then Starscream began to move. The retreat and advance of the spike in Prowl's valve stroked the pleasure higher with each move, and Skywarp's hands and mouth seemed to find every hot spot on his chassis. Keening with pleasure, Prowl locked his legs around Starscream's waist, and released one shoulder vent to reach up and back to cup Skywarp's helm. Between the two Seekers it didn't take long for Prowl to cry out as he hit overload. The wash of pleasure from his field and the fluttering squeeze of his valve pulled Starscream after him a few kliks later. A rasping shout accompanied the splash of transfluid against valve nodes.

 

The tableau held for just a moment, then Starscream moved just enough to brace his arms on the berth, and Prowl let his legs drop. A few more panting moments, and then Starscream extracted himself from Prowl's grip and flopped onto the berth near the headboard. Laying there on his back, venting hard and cooling off, he looked at the other two.

 

Prowl was panting, optics half-shuttered, while Skywarp gave him soft kisses and gentle touches. Maneuvering carefully, Skywarp shifted them until Prowl was lying flat on the berth. He then stood up, and with nudges and lifting, got Prowl more fully onto the bed, head resting on Starscream's middle. Climbing back into the berth, he snuggled into Prowl's side, continuing his gentle petting. Skywarp's charge was still heavy and he was more than eager to go, but he wasn't going to push Prowl until he was more ready.

 

After Prowl's vents had slowed down, the gentle touches had begun to slowly get more teasing and suggestive. Prowl made a pleased sound and arched into the touches. Skywarp shifted until he was over his mate, and kissed him. Prowl reached up and ghosted his hands over seams and wings, returning the delightful touches. By the time Skywarp shifted his plates out of the way and extended his spike both of them were practically crackling with charge. He pushed into the welcoming valve, and began to move.

 

They approached overload quickly. Skywarp wanted just a bit more though, and unlatched his chestplates. “Spark, please,” he gasped. Prowl gladly complied, baring his own spark. They merged, entwining in euphoric bliss, just as the overload surged. They keened together as the ecstasy swept over them, then lay there panting as chestplates closed once more and systems cooled off. Skywarp levered himself up and over, resting his head next to Prowl's on Starscream's chassis.

 

“I could get used to this,” Skywarp said, voice and field happy and sated. The other two chuckled tiredly.

 

“It beats getting slagged for sure,” Starscream muttered. He stretched as much as he could pinned under the other two. “We need to leave soon, 'Warp.”

 

“Could I please use the washrack before you go?” Prowl asked.

 

“Sure, I think we could all use a bit of a wash,” Starscream smirked, glancing at the smears of transfluid and lubricant on their hips and thighs. “Not to mention I still have dried energon on my armor.” They all slowly got up, and once Prowl's collar was exchanged for cuffs, went over to the washrack corner to clean up. Skywarp attentively cleaned his mate and then helped his trineleader get all the energon off his plating. Starscream made sure that Skywarp didn't skimp on his own cleaning, and scrubbed the black Seeker's wing joints himself. Once clean, towels were parceled out and armor wiped dry.

 

Skywarp put the chain back on Prowl, then walked over to the converter where Starscream was. A few quiet words, and both of them filled as many cubes as could fit, and put them into their subspaces. A quick kiss from Skywarp, and then the two Seekers left Prowl to himself once again.

 

Sitting on the berth, Prowl thought about what he'd learned this visit, and the choices he'd made. More information to play off of, to try and persuade the trine to their side. What was behind Megatron's cruelty, and what was Shockwave up to? And finally getting Starscream to contribute nanite influence for his sparkling. Not that he regretted interfacing with Starscream much. A shiver of pleasure curled through him thinking about it. Oh, no, he definitely didn't regret it, though it meant tying himself closer to the trine. Not only was his own creator protocols delighted, but it was still the most tactically sound decision- after all, the more involved the trine was and the closer they were to him and his sparkling, the more influence Prowl could exert with _them_ as a mate. Involving the trine in the sparkling's formation more would influence all their protective creator protocols that much more, also.

 

Yes, all in all, it was the best decision, even if it was literally 'sleeping with the enemy'. It hurt his spark to take up with the mechs responsible for Praxus' fall, but he could set that aside for the good of his sparkling. For now. That it could help him end the war in the long run, if he could get the Seekers to switch sides, didn't hurt either.

 

He just hoped Bluestreak would forgive him. Skywarp was chance, but Starscream was choice. He would have to wait and see.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 


	26. Embers in the Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, late again, but at least my excuse is we had houseguests, again. Being out of the house all week sightseeing and having to entertain counts as a reason not to write, right? -_-;;

-=-=-=-

 

 

Thundercracker walked three steps into the visit room, and stopped in surprise. Usually he and his minder were the first mecha in here, but today another was there and waiting. Seated on a bench that he must have brought with him, was a large white and red shuttleformer.

 

Thundercracker resumed walking to his usual chair when he got a poke in the back from Jazz. Sitting down, he stared at the big mech sitting to his left, bench set between the loveseat and the couch making a 'U' shape of the seating. Skyfire- oh, he remembered this one. He'd never met him, but considering how many rants he'd endured from Starscream after they found the shuttle in the ice, it would be more surprising if he _didn't_ know who he was.

 

They sat in awkward silence, Thundercracker staring, Skyfire shifting nervously, and Jazz lounging on the couch watching them both with amusement, for nearly a breem before Bluestreak bebopped in talking animatedly with Ironhide and Ratchet. Bluestreak stopped mid-word, and blinked at the mechs already there. Ratchet and Ironhide just rolled their optics and kept moving towards the couch, pushing Jazz over to make room as they sat, making him sit in the middle.

 

“Oh, I didn't know that you were going to be here today Skyfire,” Bluestreak exclaimed, as he finally stepped more fully into the room. Looking at the couch full of senior officers, he debated a moment then perched on the arm of it next to Ratchet.

 

“Ah, yes, well, I-” Skyfire started to reply, then paused a moment to listen to a comm from Jazz. “You see,” he began again, changing what he had been about to say, “I have something of a vested interest in Thundercracker's trine, and I came to see how he is doing. Also, I thought that I'd get to know him, and if you are amenable, see if a supervised flight might be something we can work towards.” He glanced over at Thundercracker who had perked up, wings flaring at the thought of a flight. “For health reasons, if nothing else, he will need to fly soon and we need to begin working out the details for that.”

 

Spark pulsing at the thought of getting to fly and filled with longing for the sky, it took a moment for the rest of what Skyfire said to filter into Thundercracker's processor. When it did, he looked over at the shuttleformer with slightly narrowed optics. “Why would you have a 'vested interest' in my trine?” he asked suspiciously. “I don't know you, and have never met you- aside from a brief encounter shortly after the Decepticons pulled you from the ice. As a matter of fact, more often than not I am dodging laser fire from you.”

 

“Hm, yes, I suppose it is more accurate to say that I have an interest in _Starscream_ \- he _is_ after all my courted mate,” Skyfire mused, tapping a finger on his chin.

 

“ _What_?” Thundercracker sputtered. Oh, he was going to throttle Starscream. He knew there had been some history between the two fliers, but not this! Starscream had made it sound like they were nothing more than great university friends, or close work partners- not mates! It would have been nice to know that _before_ having it sprung on him by his captors.

 

Skyfire looked at him with surprise, his wings falling slightly. “Oh... did- did you not know that? I know you became trine after I was... missing. But even after I was found, did Starscream never mention that?” he asked, optics searching Thundercracker's face. His wings drooped even more as he observed Thundercracker, who shrugged and shifted uncomfortably under that sad look. “He didn't. Oh. Well, I suppose it was a long time ago for him...”

 

“That... is part of it,” Thundercracker said after an awkward pause. “Frankly, our trine doesn't talk about things from before the war much. As for after you were recovered, well, once you went to the Autobots he was too angry to talk about the past. There were a quite few rants I had to sit through, when we got to our quarters, but... it was safer not to talk about it too much. He... got the brunt of it from Megatron, when he failed to recruit you. Megatron was not happy to lose such a large formidable mech to the Autobots, and he blamed Starscream. Especially since you had a history and it was Starscream's temper that made you leave. Or at least, that's what Megatron thought.”

 

Skyfire looked at him, optics wide. A sort of slow horrified realization crept over his face and into his field as Thundercracker explained. “You mean that he was punished because I chose the Autobots,” he choked out, “And that he doesn't talk about me to avoid _more_ punishment?”

 

Surprised and perplexed by Skyfire's surprise, Thundercracker shrugged. “Well, yes. But Megatron doesn't need much excuse to hand out punishment, especially to Starscream.”

 

Skyfire stared at him for a moment, horror morphing into steely determination on his face. Jumping up from his bench, Skyfire stomped towards the door. Jazz bolted up from the couch and stood in front of the door, arms out to stop him. There was an obvious argument over comms, both of them making faces and waving arms. Several tense minutes passed, but finally Skyfire huffed, slumping in defeat, and let Jazz nudge him around and walk him back over to his seat. Jazz stood watching the dejected shuttle for a moment then took his own seat on the couch again.

 

It was quiet for a long few kliks before a frowning, fidgety Praxian broke the silence. “Wait...” Bluestreak said, looking back and forth between Skyfire and Thundercracker, “So, you are Starscream's mate? How did that happen? I'm a little confused. And why wouldn't Thundercracker know about it, I thought they were a trine, like, bonded and everything. Don't trinemates tell each other stuff? I mean, I can see why Skyfire might not want to mention it, what with Starscream being a Decepticon an everything, but you'd think that Starscream would have said something. Didn't you guys ask him? I mean I would have- I'd've been super curious about how he knew a mech who'd been frozen for so long.”

 

Everyone looked at the little gray doorwinger. Thundercracker blinked in bemusement at the stream of words. Glancing at Skyfire, who looked to still be in sad funk and not paying attention, Thundercracker sorted through the jumble of questions and tried to answer. “Yes, we are trinemates, bonded and everything. You found that out when you captured me. But just because we are bonded doesn't mean that we automatically know everything about each other. Yes, we asked him, but he just told us that they had known each other before the war and were very close. I don't know why he didn't tell us the whole truth, maybe he was still angry or hurt or just didn't think it was relevant anymore, I don't know. We trined after the war was well under way, and often it hurts to talk about things before then so we don't talk about our pasts too much. So we didn't pry after that.”

 

Sighing and sitting up straighter, Skyfire answered his portion of the rambling questions. “I met Starscream at the Science Academy. We shared interests, and formed a working relationship. It grew into something more, and Starscream courted me. We'd only just formally become mates when we were sent on a xenobiological study- slash- energon scouting mission. That ended here, when a storm caught us and separated us. I ended up under the ice. I guess Starscream made it back to Cybertron. You will have to ask him for the other half of the story. As far as I am concerned, we are still mates... but I can't countenance joining the Decepticons, not even to be with him. I don't know what Starscream wants though.”

 

“Oh,” Bluestreak said softly, before launching into another stream of questions. Skyfire started answering them, but Thundercracker tuned them out. He had gotten a nudge along his trinebond in response to his outburst of surprise, so now he focused inward. Starscream had some explaining to do.

 

~Starscream, is there a reason you didn't tell me about your _mate_?~ he growled over the bond.

 

It took a few kliks for an answer to come, and when it did it was full of wariness and chagrin. ~How do they know about _that_?~ was Starscream's first response. ~I never told anyone. Besides, it was ages ago. He chose the Autobots, so it's not like it matters anymore anyway,~ he continued, bitterness and regret coming through with the words.

 

~It does matter,~ Thundercracker snarled, frustrated, ~When he's sitting here telling me this, with my kin coding already primed because of the newspark, and now it's _latching on to Autobots left and right_! I already lost the fight against adding Bluestreak to my coding, and now I've got another surprise addition with _your_ _long-lost_ _mate_!~

 

~Oh... wait, Skyfire is the one who told you I'm his mate? He said that?~ Surprise and carefully smothered joy flowed into Starscream's words. ~I rather thought that he had rejected me when he chose the opposite side to fight on, so admitting that he was once my mate had seemed... irrelevant. But wait, you said kin coding has accepted them, the Praxian's grown up sparkling and Skyfire?~

 

~Yes,~ Thundercracker sighed. ~What are we going to do? It's going to be nearly impossible to fight them now, when I get free.~

 

~Tell me about it,~ Starscream mumbled, images of Skyfire in battle leaking over. ~But I asked because they've been bringing Bluestreak to you, for visits, and now they've brought in Skyfire. Did they make a point of emphasizing their kin connections to you?~ Thundercracker mulled over Starscream's question for a moment and sent back an affirmative. ~Hn, damn pitspawn Autobots are more devious than I thought. They're not very subtle though, and it's obvious that they are using Seeker coding against us, now that they know about it.~

 

~Yeah, but what can I do about it?~ Thundercracker groused. ~I- ~ He cut off abruptly when he felt something shake him, and refocused on his surroundings. A red and white chassis was right in front of him. He looked up at Ratchet, who had stood up and gripped his shoulder and given it a shake. ~Gotta go, but we will be talking more about this later, Starscream.~ “Yes?” he questioned the medic in front of him.

 

Ratchet raised a brow ridge, and ran a scan over the seated Seeker. “Just making sure everything is alright. You zoned out there for a bit, and didn't respond to a couple of questions tossed your way. _Is_ everything alright?” Ratchet asked, pointedly.

 

“It is. I was just talking to Starscream. Confirming the claim,” Thundercracker answered, then added in a irritated mutter “And expressing my displeasure at getting blindsided by this.”

 

Ratchet, who caught the grumbled complaint, chuffed air out of his vents in amusement. “I see. Well, then, since I'm over here anyway, how about I hook you up and do the health check before we continue our chat?” He pulled a medical scanner out of subspace.

 

“Very well, if you feel the need to,” Thundercracker agreed, and opened his wrist port for the doctor to plug in. “I feel fine though, and you should know my state of repair since you are the one who put my back together. What are you really looking for?” he asked suspiciously.

 

Optics on the scanner, Ratchet smiled wryly. “I meant what I said. Health check. I am checking the repairs to see if everything has integrated properly, and also monitoring your progress on rebuilding your protoform where it was wasted from underfueling. Mostly, you were just due for another check-up. I take it Decepticon medics don't do scheduled maintenance checks?” A scoff from the Seeker answered that. “That's what I thought.” A beep from the machine signaled it was done, and Ratchet pulled the plug from Thundercracker's port. “Everything looks good. You want the stats now, or should I schedule you a time to tell you in private?”

 

Thundercracker looked at the Autobots surrounding him. Two were registering as kin, which meant that much of TC's natural suspicion/wariness and need for privacy was sublimated around them. Whether he realized it or not. As for the other two, they were high ranking officers, and he doubted the results would be kept from them anyway, if they wished to know. There certainly wasn't any such thing as doctor-patient confidentiality amongst the Decepticons, and as a prisoner of war, Thundercracker was sure it didn't apply to him either. So he resigned himself to sharing his medical details and shrugged. “Why not? Might as well save time and tell me now.”

 

Ratchet paused and gave him a look, then shrugged as well. “Your repairs have integrated beautifully, with zero signs of infection or rejection- which, granted, would have shown up long before now anyway. Your protoform is rebuilding nicely, back to optimal density and your plating is rebuilding as well.” That was understatement- Thundercracker's protoform was not only back to optimal, it was packing on reserves like crazy and his plating was nearly at maximum thickness. What _was_ it about the energon? Maybe he'd ask Skyfire to get in on the research and help. “Your systems are showing a bit of stress though, and I agree with Skyfire. You are going to need to fly soon. We'll have to work out the details on that.”

 

“Maybe you can talk about that at the same time as you work out how to let me talk to Prowl?,” Bluestreak cut it, doorwings bobbing, and hands clenched together in his lap. “I know it's only been a few days since you said you'd work something out, but I also know that you haven't talked to any of the officers about it. Now that you have something that _you_ want, maybe you could bring it up at the same time?”

 

Thundercracker looked at Bluestreak, then Jazz and Ironhide, and shrugged. “That's less up to me, and more up to your commanders.”

 

“I am willing to be his chaperone, when needed,” Skyfire volunteered. “It might be useful for me to be at the meeting as well, since I may be able to offer some ideas about how to let him fly without escaping.”

 

“Sure thing,” Jazz said, leaning back and stretching his arms along the back of the couch. “I'll set up at th' Officer's meetin' wit' the Boss Bot. It should happen inna solar cycle or two after we hash out th' details. But f'r now, looks like our visitin' hours're over. 'Hide, if you'd take our guest back ta his room, I hafta go talk ta Prime.”

 

Bluestreak protested, saying he had more questions, but the others shushed him. Ironhide nodded, and got up. “C'mon 'Con,” he rumbled, holding a hand out towards Thundercracker. Thundercracker stood, and Ironhide took his arm to lead him back to his cell. As they were leaving, TC heard Ratchet say “Skyfire, if you'd meet me in the medbay there are some things I need your help with regarding...” Thundercracker couldn't hear any more as the door closed and they were too far away. But it left him wondering, regarding what? He'd ponder and worry about it for the rest of the night.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Ratchet watched as Thundercracker was gathered up and lead out then turned to Skyfire. “Skyfire, if you'd meet me in the medbay, there are some things I need your help with regarding some interesting data Perceptor and I have been working on. Are you free to come there now?” he asked.

 

“I would be glad to,” Skyfire answered, as he stood, and reached down to grab his bench.

 

“Oh, jus' leave that 'ere, Skyfire, unless ya need it elsewhere,” Jazz said, looking over from where he and Bluestreak were talking intense but quietly.

 

“It can stay,” the gentle shuttle said, as he set it back down. “I will see you later, Jazz, Bluestreak,” he nodded at them as he joined Ratchet, who was waiting by the door.

 

They walked out together, chatting as they headed to the medbay, catching up on a few things that they had as joint projects. When they reached the medbay, Ratchet gestured towards his office. They sat down at Ratchet's desk, Ratchet in his comfy desk chair and Skyfire rather carefully on one of the guest chairs. It creaked but held. Ratchet made a mental note, again, to have Wheeljack either reinforce his chairs or build a new one for Skyfire, especially since as a medical adjunct Skyfire came here semi-frequently for meetings. It was just one of the things that always seemed to be pushed aside for more important things.

 

Looking at the various datapads on his desk, Ratchet pushed the relevant ones towards Skyfire. “I want you to look at these and tell me what you think. Perceptor is already helping me with this, but you have a biology background that might help us.”

 

“Xenobiology,” Skyfire corrected as he picked up one of the datapads and began to read.

 

“That might actually be even more helpful. You mentioned something about energon scouting? Does that include analysis and application?” Ratchet asked.

 

“That was more Starscream's speciality. He's a genius with all forms of energy, including energon- finding it, making it, figuring out what various kinds are good for,” Skyfire answered absently as he read. Then the conclusions of the accumulated data began to register, and his wings hiked up. Reading on a bit more, looking between the various datapads, he finally looked up at Ratchet with wide optics. “Is this data correct?”

 

“Yep,” Ratchet replied, leaning back in his chair. “Something about the geothermal energon is affecting us.”

 

“But this is wonderful! With the increased healing factor and the way it builds reserves, it means that the Autobots are better able to fight. Also, if there should be an emergency or a shortage, then this energon will be perfect for shortened rations, as even a half cube would give the same amount of energy as a full cube of solar energon,” Skyfire enthused, already thinking of ways to experiment with and analyze the energon.

 

Ratchet smiled wryly and tapped the datapad. “Keep reading. That's not the only side effect. And _you_ in particular need to know about the rest.”

 

Puzzled, and now a little wary, Skyfire read on. Ratchet could tell when the shuttle came to his and Perceptor's new found conclusions when his wings twitched, field flaring with alarm.

 

“This is accurate?” Skyfire asked intently. Ratchet nodded. “But that means that...” He trailed off and his wings pinned back in anxiety.

 

“Yeah, if our projections are accurate that means that all the fliers, especially you and Powerglide, could go into heat at any time,” Ratchet said, sitting back in his chair and rubbing at his chevron. “Tracks, we aren't sure about because he's pretty unique, and Blades is a rotary as well as pretty young so he's a little less likely. The Aerialbots... we aren't sure. They are young, physically, but their sparks are older. Everyone else... Bluestreak might, even though Prowl thought that he was too young, and all the other grounders don't have the coding. However, there _is_ the precedent for spontaneous heats. We don't have coding that makes us have them in a regular cycle, but we _can_ have mating heats if other factors line up.” Ratchet shrugged helplessly. “At this point there's not much we can do, except change our fuel source or try and find a way to isolate and mitigate the unwanted effects. Then we hope for the best. There will be be unhappy 'Bots if we change it up- the geothermal energon is uncommonly tasty, and as such is quite popular. Besides, I'm not even sure if it's worth doing that at this point. Right now, it's more important to try to counteract the side effects we _don't_ want.”

 

Skyfire sat back. Ratchet could practically see the thoughts flying through his processor. “Because even if we changed fuel today, most of the affected mecha are already passed the tipping point, aren't they?” he asked at last after several minutes.

 

Ratchet nodded, and huffed his vents. “It works fast, and we've been fueling with it for months now, almost a year. We're still trying to figure out why it's doing this. Perceptor thinks that it contains an Earth element in it that mimics one of our own chemicals- the one that activates the centers for our repair nanites. It would explain why everyone I've checked has a higher amount of self repair nanites in their systems, and why recovery after injury is so fast. But that _doesn't_ explain why it would cause a heat cycle or why the heat cycle is more intense, like Prowl's was.” Revving his engine in annoyance, Ratchet crossed his arms. “If you have any insights, I'd be grateful.”

 

Skyfire thought a moment. “Could you ask Perceptor to come here and bring all of his research? If he has analyzed the chemical make-up of the energon already, we might find the answer in there. Perhaps he just hasn't finished and passed on his findings yet. Or maybe he doesn't see what we need since he's a scientist, not a medic or biologist. He might not realize something is significant until it's pointed out.”

 

“True,” Ratchet said as he commed Perceptor. “He'll be here in a breem and then we'll go over the results together.”

 

They waited, and when Perceptor got there they would spend the rest of the evening conferring and experimenting, and when the time came for the Command Meeting in the morning, they would have a few of those answers that they needed.

 

-=-=-=-

 


	27. Fire is Spreading

-=-=-=-

 

The officers gathered around the conference table. Prime in his usual spot at the head of the table, Ironhide and Jazz on either side of him. Blaster sat beside Jazz, then Wheeljack, and Perceptor, while Red Alert sat primly by Ironhide, as Ratchet then Skyfire filled in the other seats. Skyfire got a few curious looks from the officers who hadn't read their memos yet- namely, Ironhide and Wheeljack.

 

“Alright, now that we are all here, let us start on the first item on the agenda,” Optimus said as they settled and picked up their datapads. “First, Blaster, have you been able to narrow down the area we need to search to find Prowl, or picked up any more transmissions?”

 

“Nah, no more transmissions, but Cosmos an' I have been able to narrow the search further,” Blaster said, poking at his datapad's screen. “If you look at the report I shared, you can see we went over the message Prowl sent with a fine toothed comb, an' found that Prowl managed to send a crude map of the island he's being held on. That, plus the fact we know it came from somewhere in the Pacific, has given us a place to look. Now we're just doing a survey of all the islands in the South Pacific- which, unfortunately, is taking a while. There are a lot more of them than you'd think, an' many have this general shape. We've had a few false positives already, 'til Cosmos scanned them better. But we're almost there- a few more orns maybe. It'd be faster if we weren't worried about alerting the 'Cons, but anything more aggressive as far as scans an' flybys an' they'd know something was up,” Blaster shrugged, as he finished up his report.

 

“I see. Good work, keep at it, and let us know if anything comes up,” Optimus said, lacing his fingers together and resting his hands on the table. “Next item- Red Alert, you said that you had a security matter?”

 

“Yes,” Red Alert said in his usual intense manner. “There have been evidence of incursions lately, more than usual. Jazz alerted me to the fact that this was likely- it appears that Soundwave has taken interest in the Command Trine, and is working to find a way to free Thundercracker. I have already found and plugged four different areas where they could breach our security. While doing that I found two areas where there was signs that Soundwave's cassettes had already been in, _very_ recently. Jazz and his team has been helping me to set defenses, patrol, and tighten security. I would also like permission to go over all the vents, tunnels, and air ducts in a daily routine for a while, to look for new breaches. The volcano has been producing a lot of tremors lately, which is creating new openings and weaknesses in our hull, and I want to keep on top of them,” Red Alert reported, looking at his notes.

 

He read his next requested item, hesitated a moment before bringing it up knowing the others would be resistant, then rushed on, “I also request permission to run a thorough sweep over the entire Ark for bugs and other trouble, and run a scan over all our computers and databases. Also, I am not happy with the fact that our prisoner is being let free to wander the corridors for 'visits'. I know he is escorted but he could still get free! At the very least we need to put a dampener on him, so that he can't relay information to his trine through the bond. He's bonded to their SIC, for Primus's sake! Who knows how much he has already told them? We might need to do a complete renovation of the Ark's interior at this rate, he's seen so much of it!” Red Alert stopped his increasingly frantic speech when he felt Ratchet grip his forearm. Looking around he saw the worried (Prime, Perceptor, Ratchet, Skyfire) and amused (Jazz, Blaster, Ironhide, Wheeljack) glances he was receiving and cycled a few deep vents. “With your permission, sir,” he said after he had calmed some.

 

“You may do the survey of the vents and do a sweep through the Ark and the computers- we are about due for an in-depth check anyway-, but I do not think the rest necessary at this time Red Alert,” Optimus said after mulling it over for a klik. “Thundercracker has been cooperative, and it would be counterproductive to put a dampener on him at this point. We need him to feel safe and secure at the moment. Besides, as Jazz will report, blocking his bond will hinder our next efforts. Jazz?”

 

Jazz sat up from his slouch, visor brightening, as everyone turned their gaze on him. “Yep. We've been workin' on him, but it's been tricky, 'cause ta get info on Prowl, we need ta go 'round protective codin'. An' ta do _that_ , we hafta be seen as friends, or at the very least allies. So, we've been doin' the 'visits', as Red was complainin' 'bout. Bluestreak an' Skyfire have been chattin' wit' Thundercracker, tryin' ta get inta his codin'. So far, it looks ta be workin'. Blue even got an agreement outta TC ta let 'im talk ta Prowl through the bond an' stuff,” the black and white mech grinned, as the others murmured in excitement. His grin turned wry after a moment and he sat back in his chair. “Thing is, ol' TC has laid out stipulations- he insists it has ta be jus' him an' Blue in the room, no one else listenin' in, no observation. So that needs negotiation an' permission.”

 

Red Alert immediately protested, and Ironhide added his own disapproving growl at the notion. But Prime looked thoughtful, and said “We will discuss that. First, Thundercracker needs to reveal how he thinks this will be managed, and we need to see what Bluestreak is willing to do. We will, of course, have to make sure it is safe for both of them, and also for the rest of us, information-wise. We need to take precautions. Bring Thundercracker to the 'visit' room later, Jazz, before his next chat with Bluestreak. Red Alert, Ratchet, and I will talk with him, and figure out the logistics. Then, if we come to an agreement, Bluestreak and he can try this evening.”

 

“Then there's the other issue with our Seeker guest,” Ratchet piped up. “He's going to need to fly soon. Skyfire has offered to escort him, and I think we worked out how to keep him under control while still letting him assuage his sky-hunger. I will attach a remote shut down on him, that will activate if he goes out of our boundaries. Skyfire and the Aerialbots will fly with him to keep him company and catch him if necessary. Skyfire will also have the remote shut down code, and can transmit it if he has to, should Thundercracker give them any trouble. That should work. I don't see any reason to keep him out of the air with all that, but if you want to add more precautions, go ahead,” Ratchet said, gesturing at the sputtering Red Alert.

 

“Red Alert, I believe that Ratchet's device will be enough, but if you feel the need, you can post extra patrols and have someone keep an eye on him, ready to activate the defense turrets,” Optimus said, knowing that Red Alert would jump on the opportunity, and likely sneak in even more security. He had already decided to add those things anyway- after all, there might be a rescue attempt if the Decepticon's noticed Thundercracker flying, and it was only prudent to add more eyes on the sky. “We will let you know when the flight will be so you can have things ready.”

 

Red Alert nodded, and made notes, and began to confer with Ironhide in low voices. Optimus looked at his datapad. “Last item for this meeting- Ratchet, Skyfire, and Perceptor have something to report,” he said, with a nod at the three.

 

Ratchet sighed and sat forward, while Skyfire and Perceptor sat straighter in their seats. “We've found a problem,” Ratchet said, drumming his fingers on the table. “A potentially very big problem. Seems that the geothermal energon that everyone likes so much has some interesting side effects-”

 

“What? What kind of side effects? Was it tampered with in some way? Are we being poisoned?” Red Alert cut in, sensor horn sparking slightly with anxiety.

 

“If you'd let me finish-” Ratchet growled, only to be interrupted by Skyfire.

 

“No, no, nothing like that! It appears to be a property of the energon itself,” Skyfire explained hurriedly. “And for the most part the side effects are even beneficial.”

 

“ As I was saying!” Ratchet said, glaring at the two other red and white mechs, “The energon is causing our repair centers to go into overdrive, pumping out about four times the amount of repair nanites than usual. This is has decreased recovery time, and -”

 

“That doesn't sound like a bad thing,” Ironhide butted in, then jumped along with everyone else when Ratchet slammed his fist on the table and growled, field flaring with impatience and frustration.

 

“Perhaps we should let Ratchet finish, then add our comments at the end,” Optimus suggested, mild reproof in his voice. The others grumbled, but silenced under his disapproval and the glares they were getting from their medic.

 

“As I was saying, _again_ ,” Ratchet growled, “The chemical in the energon is an Earth native one, but it mimics one that stimulates our repair centers. In a way this is good, as it make us heal faster and better. Most of us are in the best health we've ever been in, even counting before the war, because our self-repair is in overdrive and our reserves are topped off.” Murmurs of surprise met that, but quickly quieted when Ratchet glared at them with a gimlet optic. “Unfortunately, it's not all good. Because our reserves are taken care of, the other side effects are starting to show up. Namely, it appears that there are other Earth-based elements that are getting through our energon conversion process that mimic those that can induce mating cycles.”

 

There was a beat of silence around the table, as the others processed that. Then exclamations and demands for explanation began.

 

“Enough!” Optimus bellowed, when the shouting had gone on for several minutes, without any signs of ceasing. Everyone startled, then shut up. “Is there a way to prevent that?” he asked, after a few kliks of silence. “I am pleased to hear about the boost to our repairs, but is there a way to keep that without causing heats among the crew? Who is most affected? And if there a way to fix the convertors or change the way the energon is made?”

 

“Well,” Perceptor, began after a moment, sharing a glance and a commed question with Wheeljack, “The converters are actually working perfectly. There is nothing _wrong_ , per se, with the energon, either. It is actually very high quality and quite potent, energy-wise.”

 

“That's true,” Wheeljack confirmed. “We tested it when we first began using the magma pockets under the volcano and the geothermal energy to make our energon. One of the reasons we switched over was because it was so energy dense. That, and it tasted better. We noticed at the time that there were some elements coming through with the process, but since none of them were harmful we deemed it acceptable.”

 

“Acceptable!?” Red Alert exclaimed. “You let unknown contaminants through, and didn't try to filter them out, or test them? You could have poisoned us all! And now we find out that there are _side effects_!” His engine whined with stress. Ratchet gave him a sharp assessing look, then attempted to sooth him, petting his arm while he scanned him, pulsing calm through his field.

 

“We tested it!” Wheeljack said defensively. “There was nothing then to show that the elements and chemicals were in any way harmful or reactive! And we _tried_ to filter out the impurities, but something about the process or the energon itself meant that when we did it took out almost _all_ the energy as well, making it nearly worthless. So we left them in.”

 

“As Wheeljack said, we tested it. Quite thoroughly,” Perceptor added. “Ratchet signed off on it, when we concluded that the impurities were harmless. There was nothing until now to suggest that there would be this kind of reaction. We think, Skyfire, Ratchet and I, that the elements shift or combine slightly only after they have been ingested- that there is something about how our frames process the fuel that is causing the reactions, not necessarily the elements themselves.”

 

Ratchet sighed, and turned his gaze from Red Alert to the others around the table. “It has to be something in _us_. I tested unprocessed energon, and digested, processed energon. There was no difference between the two samples. I then took a sample and reading from energon that had been pulled using a small external pump/scanner, the kind I use when there are system-wide contaminants and possible fuel-pump failure. It attaches to an energon line, and runs energon through it while testing, but it doesn't leave the mech's body. That means the energon fed through it was still essentially in a mecha's systems, and unremoved, so it's affected by their field, spark, and electrical systems, and everything else they do. That's when we found the discrepancy. Something about _us_ changes one of the elements, ionizing it, and it then bonds with another. The resulting compound is very similar to the one mecha in heat produce, which means that when all other factors are in place, a mating cycle is triggered. And it's made worse-slash-stronger because of the additional element in our systems.”

 

Optimus pinched his nasal bridge, and closed his optic shutters. Everyone else grumbled and talked, questions of “what do we do?” and “how do we fix this?” bouncing about. He listened to it for half a breem then dropped his hand and sat up straighter. Cycling his vents and resettling his armor, he opened his optics to look at Ratchet. “Tell me what would happen if we stopped fueling with the geothermal energon this very moment.”

 

“Nothing much,” Ratchet answered with a sigh, as everyone else quieted down. “We've all been fueling with it long enough that the effects are already well under way. Past the tipping point, as Skyfire phrased it. Now it's just a game of 'wait and see who falls'.”

 

“Who is most affected then?” Optimus asked.

 

“Fliers, mostly,” Skyfire answered after Ratchet waved a hand at him to take over, then slumped tiredly over the table, elbow propped and his head leaning on his hand. “Me and Powerglide for sure. The Aerialbots next, if their youth doesn't prevent it. Cosmos, and Tracks we are unsure about, because their configurations are different and unique. Blades is susceptible as a rotary, but he's very young, so it might pass him by. Then the Praxians- Prowl already did, Bluestreak might though he's not quite old enough, but Smokescreen is the right age-” Skyfire looked at Ratchet when he cursed.

 

“Smokescreen. Primus, I forgot,” Ratchet said with a grimace. “He won't go into heat, but we have a different problem with him. This goes no farther and I wouldn't tell you except that as officers we're going to have to work around it,” he said with a glare at everyone, who nodded in answer. “I hate to divulge patient information, dammit.” A sigh and then he explained. “Smokescreen is pure sire, which as Prowl explained to me and I found out, means a mech who can't carry. They can sire a newspark, hence the term, but they don't have heats and don't carry. _However_ , they are especially sensitive to mecha who _are_ in heat and can be _dangerously_ aggressive. Especially during the critical peak. We're going to have to work around _that_ potential disaster as well.”

 

“What about the rest of us?” Ironhide asked, crossing his arms and shifting uncomfortably. “I mean, the rest of us grounders don't have to worry about it, do we?”

 

“For the most part, no,” Ratchet said. The others shifted, looking relieved, until he continued. “But, unfortunately, I can't rule it out. We don't have the coding to ignite a mating cycle, but if enough factors line up- like say, good health, plentiful energon, low stress- a spontaneous heat _can_ happen. And here we have two out of three of those. Like I said, I can't rule it out completely. Especially with that Earth element floating around, mimicking the chemical that sets off heats to begin with.”

 

Silence as they all absorbed that. “Is there a way to counteract that chemical, or to neutralize it?” Optimus asked.

 

“There are heat suppressants, but they didn't work on this when I tested them,” Ratchet huffed. “We're trying to tweak the recipe now, to make it work. Hopefully it's as simple as that- making the suppressants work and handing them out to everyone. If not, we can try going cold turkey on the geothermal. Or we can just keep using it and deal with what happens as it comes.”

 

“I am reluctant to stop using it, given its popularity and mostly beneficial properties,” Optimus said slowly, and hummed in thought. “Continue to look for work arounds, Ratchet, Skyfire, Perceptor. In the meantime, we will release an announcement to the crew and let them decide which fuels to use. Some may switch to solar without us having to order it. Then, if you can find a way to avoid the side effects we don't want I see no reason to change our overall fuel source. We will make a final decision after giving you some time to find a fix. After all, from what you say, the geothermal works almost like medical grade, and I don't want to lose that benefit.”

 

“Ha, you should see what geothermal medical grade can... do...” Ratchet trailed off, a blank look coming over his face. Then he cursed and buried his head in his arms on the table. Everyone else watched- some with concern, others with amusement- as Ratchet carried on cursing, voice muffled by his arms. The range and variety of his curses were disturbingly entertaining, and they got even more creative as he carried on. Blaster looked amazed, then joined Ironhide and Jazz as they took notes and ranked the best ones, while Perceptor and Skyfire looked on scandalized and- though they'd never admit it- a little amazed as well. Optimus and Wheeljack, used to this kind of thing from their old friend, just waited it out.

 

“-and what kind of processor glitched underclocked excuse for a soldering iron am I! How could I miss that?!” Ratchet shouted and revved his engine in an angry growl, finally raising his head up with a scowl on his face.

 

Optimus, taking that as the opportunity to end his friend's rant, cut in and asked, “What do you think you missed, Ratchet?”

 

“The Primus damned med-grade!” Ratchet growled. “Med-grade energon is not only four times more potent than normal, it's also chocked full of extra additives and supplements to help self-repair fix things without taking away from one's frame. But because it's more potent, that means that the density of the Earth elements in it is also increased. The additives mean that reserves and systems are only that much more primed to go, now, since they are full. We've all been injured and taken med-grade since we've switched to geothermal, so all of us got a kick start towards a potential heat, just from _that_. I had Prowl on it through his heat- which in light of this further explains why it was so intense- but also, it might even have _started_ his heat. He'd been injured shortly before and had just gotten off of a diet of med-grade fuel when this all happened. I'd been puzzled, but pleased when his readings came back so great such a short time after his injury.” He paused. “...Huh, well, that explains that mystery now too,” Ratchet muttered.

 

“Explains what? What mystery?” Red Alert asked, with narrowed optics.

 

“Nothing dire, Red, I just remembered that I was surprised at Thundercracker's results after his surgeries, about how well he was healing. In fact I took him off med-... grade... early,” Ratchet stopped, then groaned, covering his face with his hands, and slid down in his chair until only his chevron and the top of his head showed above the table.

 

“Lemmee guess,” Jazz drawled, “Ol' TC is now a candidate f'r a heat, too.”

 

A muffled yes came from under the table.

 

Optimus looked around the table, then laced his fingers together and set his hands on the table again. “Well, it looks like we have a few more things to take into consideration, then. Red Alert, continue your security upgrades and patrols, inside and out. Jazz, have your people help. Also, keep attending to the visits with Thundercracker. Ratchet, Red Alert, Jazz and I will still meet with him in a joor to discuss letting him fly, and see what he wants in order to let Bluestreak talk to Prowl. We will call Bluestreak in if needed. Ratchet, Skyfire, Perceptor, and Wheeljack- all of you keep working on the energon problem. Find a way to make the suppressants work, or to fix a filter on the converters without losing energy. Something. In the meantime I will make the announcement about our findings to the crew. All of us will also need to come up with plans on how to control and contain any problems that will arise if mitigating it is not possible and somemech goes into a mating cycle. Blaster, you and Cosmos keep searching for that island and monitoring the Decepticons' transmissions. Is everyone clear on their assignments?”

 

Affirmatives came back as the answers, even from Ratchet, who crawled back up into his chair.

 

“Good,” Optimus said with a nod. “Then this meeting is done. Submit alternative schedules for your subdivisions in case of disruptions, and we will have another meeting if a heat does come up to decide what to do about the mech's safety. Until then, we have our duties. Dismissed.”

 

The officers filed out, some of them already gathering in bunches to discuss plans and options. Optimus sat, watching them walk out and the door slide shut. When it was shut and he was alone, Optimus slumped and put his face in his hands, elbows on the table. This complicated things. Understatement- this could become a disaster! Already they'd bungled things up with only one Autobot in heat. Now, there were potentially _many more_ susceptible, and there was no telling if/when it might happen, to whom, or if it would be more than one at a time. And that didn't account for the danger of what might happen if the Decepticons found out. Sighing and sitting back, Optimus floundered in doubt and worry for a moment more before clenching his fists and firming his resolve. He wouldn't let anything like that happen again. They would _fix_ this- he had faith in his officers. And if they couldn't find the solution in time... well, they would have the whole of the Ark's crew and all their security systems to defend those affected. They would all camp outside and guard the Ark with the mech in heat locked inside if it came down to that.

 

Resolved and calmed, the Prime pulled a datapad closer to himself and began to write down contingency plans.

 

-=-=-=-

 


	28. Sensing Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late again, but here's the next bit.

-=-=-=-

 

Everymech knew that Starscream had been punished. That had taken no time at all to spread through the Nemesis. In fact, many were surprised that it hadn't been worse, that the Seeker was already out of the medbay. What did surprise them, those that bothered to think about such things, was _why_ he'd been punished. Sure, Starscream had taken charge, but he _was_ SIC- he was _supposed_ to lead when Megatron wasn't there. Sure, he'd ordered raids, but they had been successful, if boring. Sure he'd switched the quota around (the officers may think only they knew about the percentage of how much energon went and how much stayed, but not all of the grunts were _that_ stupid and they could _see_ how big the pallets were that went through the spacebridge compared to what they took in), but at least now none of them were hungry and they had what they needed for their projects. Full tanks made them happy, and projects getting done _should_ have pleased Megatron.

 

They also wondered how Starscream was still functioning when it was clear he wasn't being allowed rations. He never fueled with Skywarp or the other Seekers when they came to the mess hall, just sat with them while they drank. There had been more than one occasion when those working on the bridge had seen Megatron taunt Starscream with a cube, and remind him he was denied. They had also seen the cautious attitude of not just Starscream, but of all the Seekers.

 

It began a quiet mumble through the ranks- now that their tanks were full, it freed their thoughts from always worrying about the next ration- as mechs wondered why it was that their lord hated Starscream. Oh, none of them much liked the arrogant, screechy Seeker, but most admitted that he was a decent commander. Quiet rumor started, and old history began to be brought up. Especially when the Conehead trine began to also get the brunt of Megatron's irritation, taking more blows and getting more slag shifts. The Seekers became quieter on base, walking with optics wary and wings down.

 

Optics watched, and speculation followed. One set of optics in particular, or rather three sets, looked on and gathered information. Reflector observed the Seekers, each of his components watching them and noting the tense atmosphere. Spectro, Viewfinder, and Spyglass saw unhappy wingflicks and the awkward nervous distance the crew kept with the fliers from his triple-perspective. Unlike most of the crew, he also noted the cooperation between Starscream and Soundwave- the quiet way Soundwave backed Starscream up during Megatron's absence, the lessening of barbed words from Starscream, the slight nods of acknowledgment-, and tucked that bit of data away for later.

 

…..

 

A few solar cycles was all it took for Megatron's attention to sharpen into suspicious anger, a furious look in his optic as the Seeker continued to go about his duties with no signs of faltering or weakness.

 

“Starscream, come here,” Megatron growled.

 

Starscream looked up from the console he'd been bent over, conferring with Dirge about a result on a scanner. Straightening up, he schooled his face into something deferential, and walked over. “Yes, Lord Megatron?” he asked when he was standing next to the throne-like command chair that Megatron was seated in.

 

He squawked when Megatron grabbed him by the shoulder vent and pulled him down until they were nasal ridge to nasal ridge. “Have you been stealing my energon again, Starscream?” Megatron asked in a dangerous tone. Starscream frantically shook his head. “I don't believe you,” he stated then plunged his hand into Starscream's subspace.

 

Starscream stiffened and gasped as Megatron felt around in his subspace pockets. He pulled out a few items, looked them over and tossed them aside. After a thoroughly invasive and embarrassing search, he finally let the Seeker go, pushing him away. Starscream stumbled backwards.

 

“Well, you're smart enough not to have any on you, I'll give you that,” Megatron said, mouth curling in a cruel mocking smile. “From now on until I say otherwise, you're going to have daily scans from Hook. Before all of your duty shifts you will report to the medbay. If those scans show any sign of refueling after this, you will regret it. After all, you still owe for what you so thievishly took away from _my_ stores, which had been set aside for _my_ purposes.”

 

“Yes, my Lord,” Starscream said, optics lowered.

 

“And pick up your mess. I won't have your garbage lying around my bridge,” the warlord sneered. Red optics narrowed on Starscream when the Seeker's head snapped up, expression full of affront and mouth open. A heavy growl made Starscream snap his mouth shut and look down again.

 

“Yes, Lord Megatron,” Starscream said softly, though his jaw was clenched. He bowed to Megatron, then began to walk around and gather his things. Aware, the whole time, of the ominous figure on the throne and the baleful red optics following him as he moved.

 

Those optics rarely left him for the remainder of the time Starscream was in the command center. It was a tense shift for the Seeker.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Safely in his quarters once more, Starscream sat on the couch and shivered. Wrapping his arms around himself, he hunched, feeling weary to the strut and, though he was loath to admit it, a little scared. How was he going to get out of this? He'd honestly thought that he was being careful with the solar energon, spreading out his intake over enough time that it wouldn't be too obvious that he had been fueling. Apparently not. Granted, he was better fueled than most of the crew due to their hidden energon converter, but obviously Megatron was expecting to see signs of weakness already. It had only been a few days, but if he had been as underfueled as, say, the Coneheads, then yes, he would be weakening already.

 

He hadn't taken that into account apparently. Wouldn't do to get the old bucket-head suspicious. Hm, maybe he should also offer the Conehead trine energon in exchange for cooperation. They surely weren't getting enough. The rations barely left a flier with enough energy to get airborn- he would know, as he'd had the same rations until he finally fixed the converter at their refuge. A thought for later.

 

In the meantime, he had a problem to solve. At least he had until the start of his shift in the morning to work out how to fuel up enough to survive a lengthy fast. But how was he going to do that? He was lucky Megatron had not had him scanned right then, nor had he specified that he couldn't be topped off before the scan. Just that _after_ he had better not show any signs of fueling. He would use that loophole to his advantage, though Starscream had no doubt that Megatron would make him pay for it if Hook bothered to report it. Hopefully their leader wouldn't ask for the details, just his daily fuel level status.

 

Getting up, he wandered into his berth room. Taking a cube of solar energon from the hidden stores he had built into the wall over his berth, he sipped it slowly as he thought. The hidden compartment was like the one in Skywarp's room. All three of the trine had a secret compartment like this, mostly for extra energon and the odd personal item deemed too valuable or fragile to have in subspace all the time. And it had been a good thing that he had the foresight to put all the energon in there and not carry any. Not that he'd expected to be frisked in the middle of the command bridge! Starscream snarled, feeling a renewed thrum of anger and humiliation. Megatron would pay for that. Eventually.

 

Frowning, his optics wandered over the energon in his disguised cupboard, counting them. They lit up when he spotted the brighter, deeper colored medical grade hidden behind the solar energon cubes. He forgot that they had taken those when they found Skywarp and his mate in that cave! Yes, that would work. As sorry as he was to waste strong med-grade like this, he was going to need it- who knew how long Megatron would keep him starving?

 

Resealing and setting the cube in his hand back inside on one of the shelves, Starscream dug out the med-grade. Running a scan over it he nodded. Yes, if he chugged down all of these he should have enough energy and supplements to last nearly a decaorn, maybe longer, if needed. And knowing Megatron, he just might. He had just enough room in his tanks to hold all five large cubes. The boost to his reserves would also help keep him going without impacting his frame too badly, hopefully.

 

Cracking them open one after another, Starscream drank the strong, rich tasting energon. He drank until even his secondary tanks were full, and he couldn't swallow another mouthful. Saved by the Autobot, he thought ruefully as he finished the last cube and dissipated the shell. And no wonder the Praxian had gone on about their geothermal energon- the stuff was uncommonly tasty, even for med-grade. He felt more than a little overcharged from the potent stuff, and his visual feed swirled a bit before settling. Closing the compartment and lying down on his berth, Starscream initiated recharge. Hopefully in the morning the overcharge would be dimmed enough to make it less obvious that he'd done a last minute refuel, was his last worried thought before his processors powered down and he slipped offline.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Thundercracker sat nervously, though he hid it rather well, in the so-dubbed 'visit' room. This wasn't his normal time to be dragged here, and these weren't his normal visitors. Practically the entire command staff of the Autobots was sitting in front of him, or at least that's what it felt like. Prime, Jazz, Ratchet, and a suspiciously glaring Red Alert. Ironhide had tagged along, but been kicked out to man the security monitors- it was the only way Red Alert had agreed to be here for this. They sat on the couch opposite, staring back at him. Well, Prime had decided to sit on Skyfire's bench. And Red Alert popped up to pace behind the couch more than he sat on it. Kinda like Starscream, Thundercracker mused.

 

“Jazz informed me that you agreed to let Bluestreak talk to Prowl, but that you had certain demands,” Prime said with no preamble, his deep voice startling Thundercracker from his thoughts.

 

“Yes,” Thundercracker said. His field and wings twitched for just a moment with uncertainty and nerves, before he could rein it in and put on his blank officer face. Damnit, normally he was better at concealing what he felt- he had to be to survive near Megatron. “But there's a matter of... feasibility. There are issues, and I'm not sure yet that it's worth it, just so that your little mech can talk to his creator,” he huffed, sitting back I his chair and crossing his legs, cuffed hands resting in his lap. He looked away from them, trying to project disdain and confident nonchalance. It was mostly a front and unfortunately they knew it.

 

“Let's put it this way,” Jazz drawled from where he lounged on the couch one arm draped along the back behind Ratchet's shoulders, “If ya really wanna fly anytime soon, th'n ya will let li'l Blue talk ta Prowl. A flight f'r a chat. Seems fair, don'tcha think?”

 

Thundercracker glared at the smug black and white mech. He looked around at the others, but they just looked back, faces impassive, fields neutral. Well, Red Alert glared, but then again that hadn't changed from the moment he walked into the room. Still, his field was as carefully, professionally blank as the other Autobots'.

 

Flicking his wings rudely at Jazz, Thundercracker gave one last glare, but eventually gave a single sharp nod. “Don't know that I would say fair,” he said with a bit of a growl, “But I will concede that I can't exactly ask for a better deal.”

 

“I should say!” Red Alert huffed, stomping back to the front of the couch and plopping down on it, arms crossed. “This deal is highly inequitable and skewed in your favor. Letting you out to take a flight is a major risk, and frankly one little conversation in exchange is not worth it!”

 

Thundercracker just raised a brow ridge. “So, you think that hardline cabling and spark merging with a known enemy just so that he can talk to his creator isn't worth a flight? A flight which I need in order to remain sane and which I'm sure will be short and full of caveats?” he asked archly, leaning forward just a little in emphasis.

 

There was a beat of silence as they all stared at him. “What?” Ratchet asked, blankly.

 

“I need to fly, and-”

 

“No, not that, you stubborn jet!” Ratchet said waving his hand as if to brush those words aside, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “I mean, why in Primus's name do you think you need to merge and use a hardline to do this?” he asked, pinning Thundercracker with a hard look. “That's not exactly something a mech just tosses out there and does casually. Why this, and not a meet-up in a neutral spot, or an authenticated data-packet message, or something else?”

 

It was Thundercracker's turn to give Ratchet a hard look. “I wasn't forged yesterday, you know. A data-packet can be tracked or used to send coded messages, and a meet-up is just asking for an ambush. My way means no hidden messages and no risk of losing my trinemate's sparkling to a bunch of Autobots.”

 

“How do we know you aren't going to take this as an opportunity to plant a virus in Bluestreak?” demanded Red Alert sitting forward, optics blazing suspiciously and hands gripping the couch by his knees. “Why else would you insist on using cables? Using a merge for communication access is ridiculous and unheard of- you must have something else planned!”

 

“Red Alert, calm down,” Optimus murmured, pressing his calm, steady field into the Security Director's agitated one. “Give Thundercracker a chance to explain his reasons.” The Prime turned steady blue optics on the Seeker in silent demand for that explanation.

 

“It _isn't_ unheard of, at least not amongst Seekers and their kin,” Thundercracker said, raising a brow ridge. “It requires a bond to work, obviously. This kind of communication was used and accepted as a way to talk and negotiate with potential mates when all the trine couldn't be there. Sometimes it was a way to introduce far flung family, or settle things between estranged family members. On occasion, it was even used to settle disputes between separate trines, since being hooked in like that, system and spark, means that it is nearly impossible to lie, and any hack or virus will be a threat to your own systems as well. Even more rarely, it was used as a last resort in circumstances like this, with antagonistic mecha. Although, usually it was a pair of trusted neutral mecha who let their bond be the gateway, not one of the two parties in question.” Looking at the skeptical faces on the grounders before him, Thundercracker huffed, wings twitching in annoyance. He sat up straighter and uncrossed his legs. “Look, it's not like I gain anything by lying here- I haven't lied since you got me have I? If you don't believe me, ask your own Seeker-kin. Skyfire would know, I'm sure. Even Smokescreen might, since Praxians adopted the practice as well.”

 

“I think that, yes, we will verify that,” Prime said, glancing at his TIC. “Jazz, comm Skyfire and Smokescreen and ask them about that, please.” Jazz did so, opening the comm between all the officers so that they could listen in to the answer. “While he gets the verification, maybe you can answer a question for me, Thundercracker?” Optimus wondered, looking the Seeker in the optic.

 

Thundercracker just looked at him for a klik and thought about saying no -why bother if they won't believe him anyway?- but in the end he shrugged, nodding. “If I can,” he said.

 

“I know that bonds, and especially trinebonds, are more common amongst fliers and their kin, but is it also so common for them to be used so... casually?” Optimus asked, a flush of cool tinging his face under the battle mask. He clicked his vocalizer in faint uncomfortable embarrassment, but continued. “I do not mean to offend, but it seems to me from what you said that Seekers are much more … free about merging sparks than grounders are.”

 

Thundercracker chuckled and made show of relaxing back into his chair. “ I guess it's a matter of perspective. We aren't the prudes that you grounders are, but we don't just open our chestplates to anyone and everyone.” He shrugged his wings. “It is true that we merge more. Since Seekers grow up knowing they will form a trine, merging is seen as a way to test compatibility in potential trinemates or carrier-mates. It is also done between close friends, too. Merging becomes another way to communicate, to share everything. It could be that habit- of merging with others outside of a bond- that gave us a reputation for promiscuity.” Thundercracker shrugged again, field conveying _don't know-don't care_.

 

He tilted his head to the side and looked the Prime up and down. “Then there are bonds,” he said. Bringing his hands up, he tapped his cockpit for emphasis, then set them back in his lap. “Of course, after bonding, if you get into a problem with one mech, you involve _all_ in the bond. That is when things can get complicated. That may be why Seekers learned to use our bonds in ways you might think casual, or unusual. We found over the vorns that sometimes the only way to work things out is to let sparks talk. Which means merging. When trines are involved, well, that's a lot of opinions to work around. Sometimes you have to bypass the processors and programming and to get to the spark of the matter, literally. Kind of like this situation.”

 

Thundercracker thought a moment and gave a rumbling, attractive little laugh, and looked at Prime with half shuttered optics. “Also, it feels _slagging great_ , and we know it, meaning we're more likely to consider it an option. With the right partner, that is. But don't knock it until you've tried it. Does that answer your question, Prime?” he asked with a smirk.

 

Prime nodded, optics just a little too wide, face and frame still reading cool on sensors. Ratchet snorted in amusement, while Red Alert scowled and shook his head. Jazz grinned, and saved Optimus from having to say anything in response. “Well, Skyfire confirmed tha' Seekers an' their kin do sometimes use bonds this way, but he was, an' I quote, 'surprised Thundercracker'd be willin' ta offer'”, Jazz reported, relaying the conversation aloud for the benefit of the blue Seeker. “Smokescreen said he had heard of it too.”

 

“It's still too big a risk,” Red Alert insisted, engine revving slightly. “The risk of hacking or contamination or an information leak is too great.”

 

Thundercracker opened his mouth to argue, but Jazz spoke first, interrupting. “I hafta agree, Prime. We're riskin' our li'l Blue's processor here, an' while he doesn't know a lotta sensitive info, he knows enough,” Jazz said with a shrug.

 

“And I also object to the idea of leaving a prisoner completely unobserved,” Red Alert added, shooting a squint-opticked glance at the mech in question. As if Thundercracker would try something in the few moments he wasn't looking, in a room full of Autobots and in stasis-cuffs!

 

“And I don't want anyone else in the room when I bare my spark!” Thundercracker growled, armor bristling. He had to tamp down an engine snarl. “Bad enough I have to do this in an enemy base, but having one of you in the room is too much!”

 

“I understand, Thundercracker,” Optimus said soothingly, having recovered his composure. “But I can't risk my soldier, nor can I risk you. Even if there is no mech in the room with you, you will be watched over the security system, and probably monitored via medical scanner as well. That is not negotiable.”

 

“Then it has to be Ratchet,” Thundercracker quickly cut in. “As a medic, he is at least somewhat neutral with his medical oath, and surely he'll be able to tell if there is any harm being done. And he can scan, monitor, whatever.”

 

Optimus paused, conferred with his officers over comms, then nodded. “I can agree to that. Ratchet will observe, no one else.”

 

“And then you will let me fly?” Thundercracker asked.

 

“There will be conditions,” Optimus said, “But yes, we will find a way to let you fly. The details we will work out after you and Bluestreak have your... conversation. We will send for you shortly, if Bluestreak agrees to your idea. That is, if this evening at the usual time will work for you and your trine?” Prime paused as Thundercracker conferred with Skywarp over his bond.

 

“Skywarp says that he can make it to Prowl at that time,” Thundercracker said after a few kliks conversing with Skywarp, who in turn informed Prowl and relayed his answer. “He also says that Prowl has some reservations about the hardline cabling, but doesn't object.”

 

Prime nodded and then stood up. “Then in the meantime, Jazz will escort you back to your cell.” With a parting nod, the Prime and his officers swept out of the room, leaving Jazz behind to take care of their captive Seeker.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 


	29. Carrying the Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little longer than normal, so hopefully that makes up for not getting it out last Friday like I wanted to. ^_^ (over 9 pages in my word doc, so yeah, it's a bit of a long chapter for me)  
> 06-13-16

-=-=-=-

 

 

Bluestreak awaited Thundercracker in the room a few groons later, fingers fiddling in his lap and doorwings fluttering every so often with anxiety. He'd agreed to this, though he felt weird and uncomfortable at the idea of merging with the Seeker. But he'd do worse to be able to talk to Prowl and find out if he's really alright. At least Ratchet would be here.

 

He had just reaffirmed his resolve and managed to calm some of his nerves when Ratchet and Thundercracker walked in. The Seeker sat in his usual chair, but Ratchet just stood between the two seated mechs, hands on red hips.

 

“Alright, you two,” Ratchet said, “This is how this is going to work. Since this room is already secure and private, we will do this right here. Where in the room is for you two to decide, but comfort-wise, I'd recommend the couch, seeing as it has room enough. No matter what, I will be within visual and sensor range of both of you. If I see anything hinky, I will blast you with an EMP, separate you, and put you in medical shutdown. Got it?” He raised a brow ridge and glanced between the two of them.

 

“Got it,” Thundercracker rumbled. Bluestreak nodded his agreement as well.

 

“Okay then,” Ratchet said, clapping his hands together, “Whenever you two are ready then.” He sat down on the bench, and looked at them expectantly.

 

They sat staring at each other for a beat, and then Thundercracker sighed and rose. “The couch, then?” he asked, gesturing towards the spot next to where the nervous Praxian sat.

 

“Huh? Oh! Yes, that will work,” Bluestreak agreed, then scooched over to give Thundercracker and his wings more room.

 

“They explained to you what we will have to do to make this work, yes?” Thundercracker asked, as he sat. His wings were pressed into the couch back, which was higher than the loveseat's, but it was at least long enough that they were not bent awkwardly. It did somewhat crowd out Bluestreak though, who had to lean against the couch arm to avoid pressing into the expanse of blue wing now behind him.

 

“Yeah,” Bluestreak answered. “We're going to hardline and merge, while Skywarp does the same thing with Prowl, so that he and I can talk through your trinebond. Is Skywarp there? I mean, he and Prowl are ready, right?”

 

“Yes, he and Prowl are ready and waiting. They will start when we do,” Thundercracker said. Reaching out a hand, he offered it to Bluestreak. When all Blue did was bite his lip and stare at it, doorwings twitching, he lowered his hand and sighed. “I take it you are not ready yet?”

 

Bluestreak jolted slightly, and looked up at him wide opticked. “No! I mean, yes, I am ready. … okay maybe the first answer was the truth. I don't think I am quite ready to do this. Could you maybe answer a few more question first? Please?” he asked, optics a little too bright.

 

Thundercracker nodded. “Alright. I will answer what I can.”

 

“OK. Um... well first, I guess I was wanting to know what kind of hardline this would be? I mean, I've cabled before!” Bluestreak hastily said, embarrassment sending coolant flushing through him. “ And I have interfaced like that before, too! Just, um, I mean will it be more like an interface, or a data exchange? Or... um...”

 

“I see. Hm. More than a data exchange and less than an interface,” Thundercracker explained, tapping his fingers on his thigh. “Unlike a data exchange, we will have to drop our first firewalls. Unlike an interface, we won't share physical sensation, nor will we drop more than that first firewall.”

 

“Why? I mean, then why even cable then?” Bluestreak asked.

 

“I think that I can answer that one,” Ratchet cut in, and they both looked at him. “Let me know if I get it wrong, but cabling while doing this is a bit of a safety thing. Being below only the first firewalls doesn't let you into a mech's processor enough to allow you access to memories, systems, or programming, but it _does_ allow enough access to feel intention, the edges of thoughts, the beginnings of movement before they happen, so it will give you time to defend yourself. That way you can get a warning if the mech you're about to merge with intends harm, and a strong blast of charge can halt them long enough for you to get clear. Am I right?” he said, looking at Thundercracker with a raised brow ridge.

 

“You are correct,” Thundercracker acknowledged. Turning his gaze back to Bluestreak, he smiled, just a little. “Did that answer your question? Are you ready now?”

 

Bluestreak cycled a deep in-vent, fluffed all his armor out then resettled it, shook his doorwings, then looked Thundercracker in the optic and nodded. “As ready as I will ever get, I suppose. Cable first then sparks, right?” he asked. Thundercracker nodded in reply. “Okay. Um... Should I move closer now? How are we going to sit?” he asked, opticking his own bumper and TC's cockpit.

 

“Hm. If I turn just a little,” Thundercracker said, shifting his legs a little, angling them and turning towards Bluestreak as much as his wings would allow, “And you sit sideways in my lap and lean against the couch back- don't mind my wing, it can handle it- then we should be close enough for the hardline and the merge. You will just have to turn at the waist a little. Or, you can sit straddling my lap. Your choice.”

 

Bluestreak chewed at his bottom lip for a moment, then girded himself. He didn't want to be that suggestively close, but it was stupid to sit in Thundercracker's lap like a sparkling when surely it would be easier the other way. Compromising position or not. “No, I will just straddle your lap. That will be easier, won't it?” he said, standing.

 

Thundercracker shrugged and turned to sit properly on the couch again. “More intimate in a way, but easier, yes, and more comfortable. Then again, it's a little silly to worry about the appearance of things when we will be exposing our sparks and merging. There isn't anything much more intimate than that, don't you think?,” he said with a small wry smile.

 

“Yeah,” Bluestreak said, with a small tremulous smile of his own. He'd been trying _not_ to think about that part, _thank you very much_. “It's just not exactly how I thought my first merge would go, you know?” he muttered as he took the Seeker's hand as support while he crawled into his lap, knees on either side of blue thighs. A soft sound came from the blue flier, and Bluestreak looked up from where he was carefully placing his knees, to see the startled, almost dismayed, face of Thundercracker staring down at him. “Oh! It's not a bad thing though! I mean, well, it's not what I'd always imagined it being like, but hey, even if it's not for fun, at least I got an experienced partner and I am not doing it for some stupid reason or with some-” Bluestreak shut his vocalizer off with a click, and stared at Thundercracker, wide opticked. He'd been about to say 'with someone he doesn't like', but that wasn't exactly true. He hated Seekers, and here his first merge partner was going to _be_ one. Or, well, he used to hate Seekers? His feelings on the matter were a bit confused, since he'd started talking to Thundercracker. But he could definitely state he didn't like or trust Seekers yet.

 

And in a minute Thundercracker would know that, because in a moment they would be hardlined and sharing sparks. Oh, Pits.

 

….

 

Thundercracker stared at the wide opticked Praxian in his lap, still holding his hand, and sighed. For Primus's sake, did no one but Seekers ever merge anymore? Surely not _all_ of the Autobots were so inexperienced! Pinching his nasal ridge with his free hand and shuttering his optics, Thundercracker asked “Is it just a grounder thing, or an Autobot thing? Or maybe even a war thing? Because Prowl had also never merged before, well, before all this.” Lowering his hand, Thundercracker watched Bluestreak's face, those blue optics widening impossibly further and mouth dropping open to form a little 'o'. He looked so very young in that moment, and it made Thundercracker's spark ache. “Another difference in culture, I guess, although the Praxians I knew were usually more apt to follow flier customs about merging than grounder... well, most of them. I guess that changed, since the war.”

 

“I don't know. Prowl never really talks about that stuff,” Bluestreak said, fidgeting a little under TC's stare.

 

“I'm not angry, or criticizing _you_ youngling,” Thundercracker sighed, pushing hot air out his vents. “You grew up in all this mess and were too young to be merging anyway.”

 

“I'm not a youngling,” Bluestreak grumbled.

 

“No, but you _are_ young,” Thundercracker pointed out. “Your first time should be for fun and friendship, and I'm sorry about that. But you are right when you said that at least you have an experienced partner.” Pushing back into the couch, he made sure he and Bluestreak were sturdy, and his wings comfortable. “Well, shall I tell Skywarp we are ready now?”

 

The young Praxian sucked in a deep in-vent and released it slowly, then nodded. He offered TC his wrist, port exposed.

 

“Ah, no, young one. We need to use our cortical cables and ports for this,” Thundercracker said, gently pushing the offered hand back towards its owner's neck. He opened his own port hatch in his helm, near where it met his neck, revealing his cortical port and the long cable nestled beside it. He shuddered slightly in sudden anxiety at the exposed, vulnerable feeling. This part he had definitely _not_ been looking forward to, and trying hard not to think about, because thinking about it lead to thoughts of Jazz's hacking attempt. Reaching back he gently unspooled his cable and offered it to Bluestreak. He spent a long, processor frozen moment looking at the grey cable Bluestreak offered in return before taking it, more than a little reluctant. Bluestreak gave him a slightly puzzled look but plugged in Thundercracker's blue cable with no fuss. Thundercracker, however, was fighting a growing sense of panic, and still staring at the cable now in his hand. And he still had to plug it in.

 

Venting hard, almost panting, Thundercracker managed to tear his optics away from it and move the cord towards his port. The jack touched the rim of his cortical port and he shuddering again. He must have made a noise, or something as he pushed the jack home with a click, because the next thing he knew Ratchet seemed to materialize next to them, and was running scans over him.

 

“What the frag was that, Thundercracker?” Ratchet demanded. “Your temperature spiked, and your venting is labored, and you just slagging _whimpered_! Did it hurt or something? It shouldn't hurt. What's wrong?” More scans swept over him, focusing on the port in question.

 

Thundercracker reset his optics at him and the worried Bluestreak in his lap. The questions had broken him out of the growing panic, but he felt oddly disoriented. His venting was still harder than it should be, but his systems were cycling down to more normal readings already- he hadn't realized how keyed up he was getting. He bowed his head and sighed. “That... was nothing to worry about. Just the war, and bad things, bad memories, catching up to me. There's nothing physically hurting,” he answered, giving the medic a tired smile. Well, he tried for a smile, it was more like a rueful quirk of his mouth.

 

Ratchet gave him suspicious squinted optics. “How recent were these bad things, and what was it?” he demanded gruffly.

 

“Recent enough to still be a problem, and none of your business,” Thundercracker replied stiffly, glaring at the medic and almost daring him to make something of it. He could practically see the replay of events and the speculations going on in Ratchet's processor, narrowed blue optics still locked onto him. “Anyway, that's not what you are here for. And Skywarp and Prowl are waiting for us. They've already dropped firewalls and are ready for the merge.”

 

Ratchet huffed, but reluctantly nodded, and went back over to his chair. Thundercracker could still feel scans, but ignored them to focus on Bluestreak.

 

“Alright. Now we lower our first firewall. Just that. Let our systems connect enough that we can feel each other on the edges of our processor,” Thundercracker instructed. Bluestreak let out a shaky vent, but he could feel the Praxian letting the firewall down as he did the same. Their processors touched lightly over the connection. =There, see, like I said- more than a data exchange, but not like interface. Can you feel the edges of my feelings, my surface thoughts?=

 

=Yes...= Bluestreak said slowly, still regulating the two way exchange. It settled and his voice became clearer. =Oh. Yes! Now I can. Oh, I see what you mean.= Bluestreak became distracted following the buzzing lines of thought that flitted past his connection. Was that something about Jazz? What was that? There was still a lingering bit of fear, but it was slowly changing into amusement. Amusement at what? Like a sparkling? What sparkling, Prowl's? Oh, wait, was that something about-

 

=Bluestreak! Focus,= Thundercracker ordered, but his voice was overlaid with amusement. =I can see that you got the hang of the connection. Mostly. But you really shouldn't let your focus wander, chasing after thoughts like that.= He felt Bluestreak's chastened return, attention back on what they were doing. =We need to open our chestplates and begin the merge now. Prowl and Skywarp have already started.=

 

The younger mech's thoughts whirled through a few last minute doubts. Thundercracker didn't follow them or pry, however. He was satisfied as long as he couldn't sense any aggression or devious subterfuge. He _did_ sense a faint flash of distaste/old anger, and trepidation mixed with curiosity. That wasn't unexpected, with what he'd learned from Bluestreak's past. But it lasted only a moment before determination and eagerness to communicate with his creator overruled that, and then Thundercracker could hear and feel the parting of chestplates against his own. He followed suit and bright spark light glittered up between them.

 

Just before their sparks touched, Thundercracker warned =We might... overload from this. Just because we won't be pulsing sparks or pushing charge around through our cables doesn't mean that it won't happen. Willing merges are inherently pleasurable, so just try not to get lost in it, alright? But even if we do, and lose the connection, we can start again.=

 

A nervous affirmative was sent back, and then the merge began. Bluestreak thought that he'd been prepared for the intimacy and the pleasure that came as their sparks touched- after all he had interfaced before, and this wasn't so different right? But he didn't know that he would be surrounded, supported by Thundercracker, feeling the emotions of the mech and the euphoric sense of oneness that all sparks experience in a merge. The Seeker's spark stroked his, amused, guiding, yet also peaceful, helping his to settle after that initial burst of surprised pleasure. When they had settled into a steady pattern, Thundercracker nudged Bluestreak's attention to another connection. Flowing over to it, Bluestreak could suddenly sense Prowl. With a squeal of joy, Bluestreak's spark energy barreled into Prowl's, latching on. ~Creator! I've missed you! Are you okay? Oh, wow I can really feel you like this. You feel okay. I'm alright but I have been so worried for you! And there are things I need to tell you!~

 

If it had been in person rather than via spark, Thundercracker would have been bowled over and swept up in a tackle-hug as Bluestreak launched himself at Prowl. Skywarp too. As it was, the two trinemates were carried along with Blue's joy, and relief. They felt and heard his excited chatter, an outburst of pent-up love and worry in the form of highspeed babble.

 

Prowl's own joy and relief was felt also. ~Oh, my Blue. I miss you too. I am fine, yes. I have been a little bored and restless, but I am otherwise in good health. I even got to go on a drive.~ Visuals of lush plants and broken roads came through with the word drive, but immediately cut off as the connection narrowed.

 

~What was that?! Why can't I hardly feel you anymore? Creator!~ Bluestreak pressed closer, spark straining to push through the narrowed bond, anxiety thrumming through him.

 

~Relax, Bluestreak, nothing is wrong,~ Thundercracker soothed. ~Skywarp just narrowed the trinebond because Prowl was sending too much information.~

 

~Uh, yeah, sorry you got worried, but Prowl was trying to be sneaky and give you ways to find him. Not that I blame him, but still. So, uh, don't panic if we have to do that again.~ Skywarp explained, a note of apology in his sending. ~But we have to have a way of keeping things secret, so...~

 

Bluestreak calmed down and sent the equivalent of a nod, but his spark energy still flew through the reopened connection as fast as he could to latch on to Prowl- well as much as he could. Compared to how Thundercracker felt in his spark, it was as if he reached through a curtain, a tent wall with Prowl on the other side, to touch Prowl. They were, after all, only really speaking through the trine's bond, a kind of second-hand connection. ~Sorry, I get it I do. Just, I'm not taking this as well as I thought. You being gone I mean. You are never gone this long, Prowl. Or maybe you have but it feels like longer because we go by Earth solar cycles, I don't know.~

 

~I have, but you are right- this has felt longer,~ Prowl sent. ~Mostly, for me, it feels longer because I have too little to do to occupy my mind. I feel like my processor has been running on the same thought paths like one of those small mammals on a wheel, and am having difficulty feeding my battle computer new scenarios because of it. I can only try so many variables before it denies them as too improbable, and my imagination is taxed to find new things, out of the loop as I am. So feed me some gossip, my creation, before I go mad from boredom!~

 

Bluestreak giggled, though he knew Prowl really isn't joking, and that the battle computer and his processor- so used to churning through tons of data- probably _are_ running in circles and stressed by under-use. And that the possibility of a data-starved battle computer affecting Prowl is real. So he launched into a retelling of the last few months from the Autobot point of view. True, this was giving away information to the Seekers, but he was being vague enough that the threat was minimal. He may be a grunt, but he knew what was sensitive info. Besides, Prowl knew Blue well enough to read between the words. Certain coded phrases also told Prowl the status of various crew members and projects around the Ark.

 

Prowl interjected here and there with questions, and he also recounted his own time- though it was a lot shorter as he was stuck with much less to do. But he did share that he'd figured out how the twins and Jazz pulled that one prank off, sharing a laugh with Bluestreak. ~My only real complaint is lack of things to do, and the fact that I am tired of solar energon. I have had a rather intense craving for our geothermal energon- I would almost be willing to overlook one of Sideswipe's pranks to get some. Almost.~ Amusement flowed between the two Praxians, and Bluestreak laughed at the in-joke.

 

Blue was at the end of the 'gossip' when the subject of the visits with Thundercracker came up. ~Yeah, I've been talking with Thundercracker. It has been... hard. I'm sorry Thundercracker, I still have issues with Seekers, no matter what you've said about Praxus being not your fault- ~ he stopped when he felt the flash of surprise from Prowl. ~Oh, yeah, you don't know. Well, I will let them tell you.~

 

~How can the Seekers not be responsible?~ Prowl asked, confused and more than a little angry. ~It was their Air Squadrons that flew over Praxus and destroyed it!~

 

~But they weren't supposed to!~ Skywarp said. ~Starscream let Megatron have some of his fliers for border protection and in case of battle while we three were off getting trined! Pits fire, Starscream was in negotiation with the Praxian governor for aid in exchange of guaranteed non-hostility!~

 

~What?~ Prowl asked in a whisper, stunned.

 

~That's right,~ Thundercracker said, ~I had forgotten that we had actually got as far as negotiations. The plan was to protect our kin in exchange for tending our wounded and medical aid, mostly. Let downed fliers stay in the city to recover amongst those who would understand our frame and coding needs. Since Vos was already... gone.~

 

~Yeah, but Megatron didn't like that,~ Skywarp took up the explanation again. ~He took the fliers we left in his command, beat them into submission and set them against Praxus. He had to kill a quarter of them before the ones left followed his orders out of self-preservation. TC, Star and I didn't know what was goin' on until... well, _after_.~

 

~But...~ Prowl's voice sounded almost weak with shock and surprise, then firmed as he continued, ~But why would he... oh. I see. This was something Starscream was doing- in regards to Praxus- that Megatron disagreed with, wasn't it? Or perhaps he was afraid of Starscream's power? After all, he _is_ Winglord, and therefore in control of all Seekers. Perhaps he feared what would happen if Starscream also had all the Seeker-kin in his command as well.~

 

~That's what we have surmised,~ Thundercracker said, spark pulsing with old grief and pain.

 

~But why would he fear Starscream when he had the Winglord's oath?~ Prowl asked.

 

Bluestreak might not have thought anything about that, except that both Seekers flared in alarm and the connection thinned again. There was a flurry of emotions between the two trinemates too quick to follow, but after a moment the bond was opened wide again.

 

There was a cautious silence, filled only with the pulsing of their sparks and the incrementally rising charge of the merge. Bluestreak's spark shivered at the pleasure, now that nothing was distracting. But overload meant an end, or at least a break, to the merge, and he didn't want to leave Prowl yet! Besides, he had to tell Prowl more. He decided to pass over that Winglord oath bit but keep it in mind, and took up his talk about the visits again. ~But anyway, that's helped me when it comes to talking to Thundercracker. He lost a mate and sparkling in Praxus, too. And did you know that Skyfire was Starscream's mate? Before the war and everything I mean?~

 

~I knew,~ Prowl said, letting the conversation be redirected. ~But only because Prime gave me the confidential report that Skyfire gave him, so that I could factor that in to battle plans.~

 

~Wait! He's actually Screamer's _mate_?!~ Skywarp exclaimed. ~Ah, Primus, no wonder Screamer was in such a destructo mood about that,~ he mused, sharing his consternation and belated realization to TC, who pulsed understanding and agreement back.

 

~Well, Skyfire agreed to help Thundercracker and me out because of it, I think. He seems to like Starscream still, and was worried about Thundercracker because of him being part of Starscream's trine. So he offered to give Thundercracker what he wanted; Flying time in exchange for this hardline-spark-conversation thing, with Skyfire helping guard was the deal we worked out,~ Bluestreak mused. Skywarp's sudden focused interest and flash of hope made him realize what he'd just said. ~Ah, scrap, I shouldn't have said that. I'm gonna get in trouble for telling things I shouldn't,~ he whined, with a burst of annoyance at himself. And more than a little fear that he'd lose his only way to talk to Prowl and negotiate with the trine to get him back.

 

~Bluestreak, you _do_ realize that he's my bonded trinemate, and that I was going to tell him anyway, right?~ Thundercracker asked with amusement. ~Your superiors haven't blocked my bond, and I can tell my trinemates anything I want to, including things like when I might be flying.~

 

~... Right. I guess Ratchet, Jazz and everyone knows about it, huh? Okay.~ Bluestreak said, calming down again. ~ Heh, guess it's not any worse than having Soundwave's little scraplets poking around everywhere like they do. At least we always know where _you_ are, at the moment- can't say that about the cassettes.~

 

~Soundwave is going to be a problem, considering- ~ Prowl's words got cut off as the connection narrowed again. The Seekers both leaking anger and fear and frustration at Prowl. Bluestreak didn't like that; the anger frightened him, and he crashed against the block trying to reach for Prowl, calling out for him. His spark pulsed wildly in his distress, causing responding pulses from Thundercracker which didn't help, because it heightened the low level charge already running through his frame. The charge increase pushed him further towards an overload, and that only made him panic more, because overload meant stopping and losing Prowl and-

 

=~BLUESTREAK!~= a shout thundered through his spark and processor, drowning out everything else making him freeze and halting his downward spiral. It was enough to stop the panic. He could feel the others touching him with worry. Bluestreak was relieved, until he felt the amount of charge running through him- he was _so_ close to overload. Thundercracker caught the returning anxiety though, and sent reassurance and calm, while drawing some of the charge away towards himself through spark and cable. ~I am more able to withstand a higher charge before overload,~ he sent in response to Bluestreak's confusion and gratitude. ~However, all of us are near to the limit of what we can stand- I think perhaps it is time to say whatever else we need to, and save the rest for later.~

 

Immediately Bluestreak reached for Prowl, even as he asked ~Later? You would be willing to do this again?~ Prowl reached back, waves of _love-reassurance-comfort_ flowing over him. It was stronger and better than a field, and Bluestreak snuggled into it.

 

~I think we can negotiate that with them later,~ Prowl said, spark energy cuddling Blue's as much as they could through the distance and separation of the way they piggybacked on the bond. ~Right now I want to hold my oldest sparkling a little while longer.~

 

~Can you hear the newspark yet?~ Thundercracker asked, curious. There was a whisp of wistful longing, and lots of bittersweet nostalgia in his spark voice. The others felt it but didn't remark on it- they had, after all, a pretty good idea why TC would feel that way.

 

~Not yet, not very much anyway,~ Prowl said. ~I feel little flitters of emotion and the sensation of him brushing along my spark, but no words or coherent communication yet.~

 

~You get to talk to the newspark?~ Bluestreak asked with awe. ~That's so cool!~

 

~Yes it is,~ Prowl agreed.

 

They spent another breem together talking and just being together, but finally the pent up energy charge was too much for them to hold off. Prowl gave Blue one last nuzzle before the bond closed off, separating them once again.

 

~Bluestreak,~ Thundercracker called, getting his attention. ~We're very close to overload, but we don't have to do it like this. Would you prefer to end the merge, finish with just cables and touch?~

 

~I...~ Bluestreak struggled to focus. The rising pressure of the charge, the pleasure, made it hard to think. But he _did_ know that in the end, he didn't want this intimacy. Not yet, and not with Thundercracker. ~Without the merge, please!~

 

Thundercracker sent agreement, then gently pushed Bluestreak back, separating the tangled essences of their sparks. Blue made a small sound at the loss, but then cried out as Thundercracker sent energy racing back across their cables, and stroked his doorwing hinges. Bluestreak overloaded. Static flashed across his plating, optics flashing bright before going dark. He felt and heard Thundercracker tip over the edge as well, a rumbled moan escaping the Seeker as he overloaded as well, static flickering between them where their plates touched.

 

Bluestreak puffed air through his vents, chestplates closing, and slumped against Thundercracker for a few kliks. But as soon as he regained control of his frame, Bluestreak pulled Thundercracker's cable from his port, and slipped his own out of Thundercracker's. Thundercracker grunted and made a face. Bluestreak realized why just a moment later as vertigo assailed him, his systems struggling to settle and raise firewall after having been somewhat synced for a while. But as soon as his gyros had mostly restabilized and his optics reset, Bluestreak was easing himself off of Thundercracker's lap and making his wobbly way over to the loveseat.

 

Ratchet raised his brow at Bluestreak's uncoordinated retreat. “I take it you didn't take time to back out of each other's systems and raise firewalls again before yanking your cable out?” He huffed at Blue's shrug and Thundercracker's grunt. He flicked a scan over both of them, mostly satisfied by what he saw. “So, care to explain why Bluestreak was whimpering and keening through some of that? And why my scans showed sudden stress and fear?” the medic asked in a dangerously even tone.

 

“That was my fault, Ratchet,” Bluestreak said, voice a little staticky still from the lingering effects of his overload. That had been a powerful one. Perhaps because the charge had so long to build up he mused for a klik, then continued his explanation. “They narrowed the connection a few times to keep things from being said and I panicked when it happened. I wasn't exactly the calmest when we started anyway, and I think that just made it easier for me to get stressed out. Had a tiny panic attack, but Thundercracker was able to stop it.”

 

“I see,” Ratchet said, though he sounded skeptical and gave the blues Seeker slouched in the couch a gimlet optic.

 

Thundercracker just shrugged, and looked back levelly. “That's what happened. The youngling didn't like it when Skywarp and I had to narrow or block the bond to keep things from being shared that we didn't want shared.”

 

Bluestreak frowned and stuck his glossa out at TC for the youngling remark but nodded when Ratchet looked at him for verification. Ratchet growled his engine softly but let it pass. “Alright then. Let me plug in, check your firewalls are fully integrated and that no surprises got left behind, and then you can go,” Ratchet said as he got up and marched over to Bluestreak. Bluestreak obligingly offered his wrist and let the medic check him over.

 

=The officers will be meeting with you in a few breem to get whatever intel you have for us, okay Blue?= Ratchet sent while he ran his checks. Blue sent an affirmative back. Finishing the scan and saying that he was all clear, Ratchet unplugged. Once he got the okay, Blue made his goodbyes- feeling awkward again now that everything was done- and left the room.

 

Ratchet opticked the Seeker, who looked back warily. “Will you let me check your systems as well?” he asked. Red optics narrowed, but a nod of the charcoal gray helm had Ratchet walking over. “So, before I plug in, want to tell me what really caused that little flashback you had?”

 

Thundercracker growled, field flicking with _frustration-exasperation-fear_. “I said none of your business.” Ratchet just stopped in front of him and stood there giving him a disbelieving look. But the stubborn jet's field and expression didn't change, arms crossed and frown in place. At last Ratchet sighed and silently held out his hand. Thundercracker held out for a few more kliks before huffing, uncrossing his arms, and giving the medic access to his wrist port.

 

Ratchet plugged in and efficiently and professionally running his checks. “Well, you look fine as well. Jazz will be here in a moment to take you back to the brig. The final plans for your little joy flight are being hammered out, and you will get to fly in a few solar cycles, give or take.” Sharp optics didn't miss the slight flinch at the mention of Jazz. That, along with what he'd observed, confirmed his suspicions- at least as far as Ratchet was concerned. But without Thundercracker saying anything or more evidence, there was no way he could bring it up to Jazz or Optimus. _Yet_. But if Jazz had done what he suspected he'd done, then that wily mech was in for a _load_ of slag later.

 

Still, when Jazz arrived moments later, Ratchet couldn't help but glare at him a little. Jazz gave him wide optics and a questioning look, but Ratchet just waved him away. Taking Thundercracker by the arm, they walked out of the room. Ratchet headed out as well, headed to the room where the rest of the Autobot officers waited for Jazz and Bluestreak to hear the debrief from this rather interesting solar cycle.

 

-=-=-=-

 


	30. Chapter 30

-=-=-=-

 

 

Ravage was having a hard time. His current mission was to infiltrate the Ark and to find a safe way to extract Thundercracker. Well, that wasn't exactly happening. Ravage huffed a silent sigh as he was forced to backtrack yet again. He was in the Ark's vent systems, but none of the usual paths were working. True, he'd had to find a new way in to begin with, since the old breach had been plugged. That wasn't unusual though- Red Alert was good at finding them and fixing them. What _was_ unusual, was the amount of sensors, defenses, and traps now _in_ the various tunnels that veined through the Ark.

 

Not to mention, Ravage thought, audial finials twisting as they picked up the sounds of movement echoing through the vent, the fact that there were patrols _in the vents now_. Tamping down an irritated growl, Ravage looked for a side tunnel off the vent he was using to avoid the mech crawling his way. Luckily, he had seen one earlier before he had to turn around. As far as he could tell there weren't any threats or traps in this one, and he turned down it gratefully. Slipping through the ductwork with ease- one of the reasons he hasn't been captured this trip, his ability to move faster and quieter in the tunnels- Ravage was beginning to think that it might be better to actually leave the vents and just find a seldom used storage room or something as a base from which to watch and spy. Dodging cameras and random Autobots walking through the halls might be the _easier_ route at this point.

 

Especially since he could detect another device up ahead, and the sound of the mech behind him getting louder as they came closer to his tunnel. Audials pinned back and tail flicking in annoyance, Ravage grumbled silently to himself. At this rate, Soundwave would be trying to find a way to extract _Ravage_ soon, if he couldn't find a safe place to hide.

 

Setting about disabling the device, Ravage sighed. That idea about a storage room was looking better by the moment.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Lazerbeak wasn't having much better luck. He'd just switched out with Buzzsaw on the outside surveillance, but getting close was becoming harder and harder. The Autobots had stepped up patrols. Not just that, they had pushed the patrols out farther, and added more sensors and defense turrets. It was getting to be that the little lazerhawk cassettes were forced to flit carefully from bush- to bush- to cover- to rock close to the ground like some kind of overgrown songbird just to get anywhere _near_ the perimeter. Or soar in circles high over the Ark like their Earth counterparts. That was great for surveying the terrain and making note of patrol routes and routines, but not so great for what they needed to be doing. Which was scouting out a safe way in and out of the Autobots' territory, one that a full size frame could use, without getting detected or caught.

 

So far they weren't finding any.

 

The Autobots had certainly beefed up their security, and so far neither of the flier cassettes could find a hole big enough that they could use to get Thundercracker out of there. Soundwave was starting to get worried and frustrated from their reports of repeated failures. Lazerbeak hoped that Ravage was having better luck. Extraction was still possible if they could at least get _to_ Thundercracker and get him out here where he could help them take down the outer defenses through sheer firepower. But if the irritation coming over the bonds was any indication, it didn't seem likely that Ravage was faring any better.

 

Hopefully Soundwave had some more ideas, or could cobble their intel into some kind of plan, because as far as Lazerbeak could see, their rescue plan was doomed.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Reflector watched Rumble and Frenzy. The twin cassettes had been particularly annoying the last several solar cycles. They seemed to pop up everywhere, get in everymech's business, stir up trouble, and run off with wicked laughter trailing in their wake. The entire crew was about ready to string them up by their peds.

 

But what he found most interesting was what he _didn't_ see- even as the little mechs made themselves a nuisance their fellow symbionts were conspicuously absent. In fact, it seemed that Rumble and Frenzy were deliberately keeping the attention on themselves to divert other mecha from noticing that fact. All of which, of course, piqued the information-gathering interest of Reflector. Viewfinder, Spectro, and Spyglass started following the two as they went about the Nemesis, splitting their duties between the three components so that there was always one of them free to spy.

 

Normally Reflector would take this kind of intel to Starscream. The SIC usually _delighted_ in having information to hold against Soundwave. But with the growing cooperation between the two officers, Spyglass proposed they keep it in reserve instead. There were always those who were willing to pay for material on those higher in the chain of command, hoping for a bit of blackmail that they could use to further their own interests. The other two agreed. After all, Viewfinder added, they could always go straight to Megatron if it benefited them the most. Best for now to wait. Watch. And see.

 

Speaking of the Air Commander, Spectro made note of the Seekers in the mess hall as he sat sipping his energon. Starscream and Skywarp were in here now, but they weren't sitting alone. No, they were seated with the Coneheads, engaged in some rather intense but quiet stilted conversation. Out loud anyway- their wings moved in that way Seekers had of communicating with each other, and Spectro had no doubt there was more being said over comms. That was new, and interesting, seeing as usually the two trines were barely tolerant of each other. He watched the fliers discreetly as he fueled. They talked a while longer, then Skywarp laughed and clapped a hand on Thrust's maroon forearm before he and Starscream got up and left. If he hadn't already been watching he would have missed it. In the brief moment Skywarp touched the other Seeker, he'd managed to pass something from his subspace pocket into Thrust's.

 

Mentally raising a brow ridge, Spectro decided that instead of following Rumble and Frenzy out of the mess hall- who were just now running out after spilling Wildrider's energon, the sports car hot on their heels- that today, he was going to watch the Conehead trine. They certainly seemed surprised and excited about something, though they were doing a bad job of trying to conceal it.

 

Barely a breem later the fidgety trine headed out. Spectro casually stood, disposed of his empty energon cube, and walked out after them a few kliks later. He hung back just enough to avoid being seen as he followed the Seekers.

 

Hearing voices up ahead, Spectro slowed down. The trine was out of sight, had just turned down the corridor leading to the non-officer hab suites. Edging his way silently to the junction, Spectro crouched and peeked around the corner.

 

Ramjet was tugging at Thrust's arm, whining. “Com'on Thrust, gimme some!”

 

“Shut it off! Wait until we're in our hab!” Thrust hissed, trying to enter the door code. Ramjet tugged on his arm again, pouting, which caused Thrust to miss the button he was aiming for. Growling in frustration, Thrust shoved Ramjet back.

 

Rolling his optics, Dirge reached over and punched in the door code himself while the other two shoved each other. “Are we really going to trust something that Starscream has given us? He's probably poisoned it,” Dirge said morosely, navy plates twitching in irritation as his two trinemates continued to bicker and fight. With a huff he left them in the hallway and went in their quarters.

 

Thrust pushed Ramjet hard one last time into the corridor wall, making the other Seeker grunt. Rubbing at a streak of white paint Ramjet had left on his chestplate in their grappling, he growled then stomped into their room. “He might be a cowardly glitch but he's still Winglord. He's an aft-head but he looks out for Seekers,” he said as he entered.

 

Ramjet scrambled in after them, saying “I don't care if it's poisoned, fuel is fuel and-” before the door closed and Spectro couldn't hear anything more.

 

Resetting his optics in surprise, Spectro stood up. Walking to their own hab suite and entering, he shared what he had learned with his fellow components. They were surprised as well. By now, everymech knew that the Air Commander was on a fast by order of Megatron. The whole crew watched Starscream avidly when he joined them in the mess hall, eager to be the one to tattle on him if he disobeyed. But though Starscream couldn't _consume_ his rations, didn't mean he couldn't still collect them. So, having a few extra cubes of energon wasn't out of the question. However, even assuming the energon Starscream gave the Coneheads was his own unconsumed rations, it was still odd. After all, if Starscream was going to give anyone the energon he couldn't have, it should be his own trinemates. True, they had plenty at the moment because of the recent raids, but it wouldn't last long. So why was the Seeker giving away energon he should be hoarding? Unless... unless he had more. Another source.

 

Sitting on their berth, Spectro nodded to himself. He agreed with the others- this was something they would watch carefully. When the opportunity presented itself, perhaps they would approach Starscream with a little deal. Or, if the SIC refused, they could always take their findings elsewhere. Surely Onslaught, or Scrapper, or maybe even Megatron would like to know. Laying back and resting his purple hands over his green chestplate, Spectro smiled. Between this new development and what they had already observed with Soundwave and his cassettes, it seemed that there was a change coming. Maybe even a shift in power. It would be prudent to watch closely, and see where the datachips fell. After all, Reflector might be able to snatch a few 'chips for themself, Spectro thought with a grin.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Optimus sat with his officers in a small private lounge room off the main conference room. Things were wrapping up, now that Bluestreak finished his debrief and left, so he sat there and pondered. He listened with half an audial as his mechs talked and debated, but his thoughts were mostly turned inward, going over what they had learned. There hadn't been too much in the information from the connection-merge that they didn't already know, but the confirmation helped. The tidbit about the Praxus negotiations and the what-ifs made Optimus' spark ache. It just made the attack and fall of Praxus that much more pointless and tragic. But one fact had been surprising, and Optimus kept coming back to it. What was the Winglord's oath? And what was there about it that would make Megatron's attack so surprising to Prowl and the Seekers?

 

“What is the Winglord's Oath?” he asked quietly, curiously, his voice rumbling through the room. Talking stopped and they looked at the Prime. Optimus looked up to met their optics, and was surprised to see them gaping at him in shock. Blinking his optics at their reaction, he sat up straighter. “What?” he asked in confusion.

 

“'What?'” Ratchet repeated in an astonished and disbelieving tone, hands on hips where he stood talking with Wheeljack. “What do you mean 'what'! Optimus!” He flung his arms up in exasperation, then continued to flail them about as he began to mutter curses. Wheeljack patted his shoulder, trying to sooth him.

 

“Winglord's Oath goes to the Prime,” Ironhide explained over Ratchet's sputterings, sprawled out in the chair next to Optimus, hands laced over his chestplate. “It's a code enforced promise to loyally serve the Prime, in exchange for protection an' autonomy an' stuff for Vos. Pretty sure that's why the screechy fragger took out the Senate and left Sentinel for Megatron. The oath would have made things hard on 'im if he raised a blaster to the Prime.”

 

Ratchet stomped over and thumped into the seat next to the two of them. Wheeljack and Jazz shared a look, then sat down as well. Seemed the meeting wasn't as over and they had thought.

 

Before Ratchet could open his mouth Red Alert cut in over the comm. ::Did you witness Starscream make the Oath to Sentinel? Was it confirmed?:: The Security Director had insisted that he stay in the Security room because he was on monitor duty. He wanted to observe Bluestreak, just in case, and also wanted to keep an optic out for activity from Decepticons now that there had been contact with Prowl and the other Seekers. He also insisted he stay behind because, as he said before the meeting, 'Who knows if Bluestreak has been infected with a sleeper virus or something! One of the officers needs to remain functioning to keep things running if he blows you all up or to initiate quarantine in case he spreads a deadly plague!'

 

“I did, and it was,” Ironhide said in answer to the question. “So did Ratchet, actually. It's one of the reasons why the official start of the war- with the destruction of Vos- kinda took us by surprise. With the Winglord's Oath, Sentinel should have had no reason to turn on Vos, and Starscream should have not been able to side with the Decepticons.”

 

“I never heard about the Winglord's Oath before,” Optimus said, voice thoughtful, and teek curious. “I became Prime in the middle of the war that Sentinel and Zeta were fighting, after Starscream and all the Seekers had already taken up the Decepticon brand. No one ever told me about it, perhaps because they saw no need since the Winglord was the enemy.” Blue fingers tapped a silver thigh as Optimus pondered a moment. “What kind of coding enforcement does the Oath entail? Did he have a choice? How did it affect Starscream? I am wary as to what kind of 'loyalty' would be worth messing with another mecha's coding.”

 

Ratchet grumbled his engine, vaguely annoyed with himself. “I always forget that you didn't receive all the education and information you should have as Prime, because of the war. And that as a former dockworker, you might not have heard about some things that were mostly kept to those in power,” Ratchet said with a huff. The frustrated cursing had subsided and he sat slouched in his chair. He shook his head before taking up the explanation. “Anyway. It's an old Oath from back when Vos was first established, and the Prime at the time decided that he wanted to unify Cybertron. The Seekers weren't too happy about bending their wings to anyone but their own, so it was agreed that they would retain their own culture, leadership, and power. _But_ , the Winglord had to insure that they wouldn't turn on the new alliance with the grounders, who at the time were severely disadvantaged if it came to a fight. So, the Oath was brought about- a code change was made to the Winglord that when activated would prevent the Seekers from turning on them. It's passed down along with everything else, when a new Winglord takes over.

 

As for what it does, well, I'm not entirely sure,” Ratchet continued, gazing absently at the ceiling. “From what I gleaned, it's only the Winglord affected; but the way Seeker loyalties work, where he goes the rest will follow, unless he betrays his frame kin. I saw Starscream's Oath ceremony, but at the time I wasn't CMO. I didn't help activate it so I can't tell you what the coding looked like. And any records of it are probably lost. What was told to me by the then-CMO was that it is a code lock- not _quite_ slave coding, or a loyalty program, but slagging close. The only reason it was even legal to use at all was because it was ancient and 'tradition'. Unless harm is done to him or his people, Starscream is unable to fight back. What degree of harm can be done before the coding lock lifts is the question.”

 

“The other question is,” Wheeljack mused, “Did Starscream's oath to Megatron include the coding lock, like it would if he gave the Oath to a Prime? Or was it just the normal kind of vow one gives a commander?”

 

“If it did, could 'splain some things,” Jazz said, rubbing his chin. “Might also 'splain why Screamer's always been so screechy 'bout ''never bowin' down f'r corrupt Primes again'' an' all that slag. I mean, if he gave Oath ta Sentinel, an' then Megatron, th'n he ain't 'xactly had great experience wit' it. But if we haven't heard 'bout this oath ta Megatron before, means he doesn't _want_ us ta know f'r some reason. That tells me that somethin' else's goin' on.”

 

::We know Sentinel is the one who ordered the destruction of Vos. At the time Sentinel claimed it was a preemptive strike, in direct response to a threat- that his intelligence officers had found evidence of a planned attack against Iacon,:: Red Alert chimed in. ::When you became Prime, Optimus, and promoted me to Security Director, I looked for that evidence. I didn't find it. Whatever reason Sentinel had for bombing Vos, it wasn't that. And if what Ratchet said is true, Starscream may not even have been _able_ to plan something like that, due to code lock via Oath.::

 

“But it _did_ provide Starscream with reason enough to hate Primes and the Senate, and to side with Megatron,” Optimus sighed.

 

They speculated a while longer, with Ratchet and Ironhide promising to speak with Optimus more later. Optimus was hoping to find out about any _other_ things he should know as Prime and leader before they hit him over the head again.

 

“Well, Red Alert, we are done here. I assume it is safe to leave the room, and that Bluestreak did not go on a rampage or anything while we were talking?” Optimus lightly teased his Security mech.

 

Red Alert made a short buzz with his vocalizer, slightly flustered at the tease, then answered in a begrudging tone. ::It's safe. So far. But I'm still going to watch him until I can be completely sure!:: he said, with an engine rev that was loud enough to carry over the comm.

 

“Of course, Red Alert,” Optimus said, in a warm proud tone. “I know you will watch out for us and keep us safe.”

 

There was a pause and a tiny almost embarrassed, definitely flustered squeak from the comm and then Red Alert clicked his vocalizer. ::Yes, Prime,:: He said, his voice full of respect.

 

“One last thing before we go!” Ratchet piped up. “Almost forgot to bring this up. Who's going to make the announcement?” They all just stared at him. Crossing his arms he said, “The one about the energon?”

 

Optics widened all around and then studiously avoided Ratchet's gaze, each officer suddenly busy looking at a datapad or mumbling about a scheduled thing or sudden dire project in a short game of 'not it'. Optimus raised a brow, and shared a look with Ratchet. Ratchet smirked and Optimus' optics were bright with amusement. “Well,” Optimus said, some of the amusement leaking through to his voice and teek, causing the others to freeze, “I suppose it should come from _all_ of us. We will assemble in the mess hall tomorrow at 17:30. That way everybot will be up and most will be on their free time. Those whose shift ends at 18:00 will just be let off a little early, so that we can tell them. Red Alert will watch the monitors while we're all busy.”

 

“And all of you can stay after the announcement _with me_ to help answer questions from the crew,” Ratchet said, narrowing his optics at them. They grumbled and growled, but agreed, then went their separate ways headed off to their various duties.

 

-=-=-=-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be visiting family for the first half of July, so there won't be a chapter until after the 20th. Unless I somehow miraculously manage to find some time to type away when all the family and assorted kiddos aren't grabbing for my attention. ^_^ Just so you know. After that regular updates resume.


	31. Flares and More Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back! And I got this up sooner than I thought I would so yay! ^_^ I expect to be back to the 10 day posting times as usual, unless something comes up.

**-=-=-=-**

 

A grate opened silently in the ceiling of the storage closet, and Ravage peeked in cautiously, audials dialed to the max listening for any possible sounds. No one in there and no sounds of anyone approaching, so Ravage dropped lightly on to the shelving under him, then down to the floor. Taking stock of the small room quickly but thoroughly, he found no evidence of cameras or other security devices, and the items in here were non-essential. Looked like it was mostly spare parts, extra containers, a couple pieces of unused furniture, and random smaller items needing repair. Good. That meant there wouldn't be anybot coming in here to get things or to poke around. Checking the door, he found the panel easily hackable, which meant he could lock it from the inside. Excellent. This would make a good little base of operations. Coming down out of the vents was looking like a good idea after all.

 

Downside was that the closet was in an out-of-the-way corridor, and farther from what he needed to observe than he'd like. But it was the only one he could get to with all the new security in the vents. Coming down out of the vents meant more bypassing of cameras and mechs in corridors, increasing his likelihood of being caught, _but_ it was also unexpected and that element of surprise might actually work in his favor even if he was found out. None of the cassettes had actually _left_ the vents on one of these missions in vorns. Until now, the shafts, tunnels, vents and ducts had been too easy to get around in and less heavily guarded, and unless Soundwave needed them to physically steal something, they stayed put. Even then it was a quick pop out and back in, or using a grappling hook to snatch the needed item.

 

It was no wonder Red Alert had booby-trapped all the vents, when he knew that was where the small spies hung out. Ravage guessed they had become too predictable. Obviously, Soundwave and all the symbionts needed to rework their surveillance and espionage tactics for the Ark.

 

Ravage popped the door panel open with a claw, and began working on securing the door. Plugging in his arm cable, Ravage hacked to door, changing the access key to deny anymech but himself. As an extra precaution, he sliced the wires to the manual override. Now you had to have the right keycode to enter or else, with no way to force the door except brute force or a cutting torch. Both of which would give Ravage plenty of warning to escape.

 

Door secure, Ravage pressed an audial to it, and listened hard. No sounds. He waited just a few kliks more to be sure the hall was clear, then opened the door. Staying in the shadows inside the doorway, optics dim to be less noticeable, he looked out and ran a passive scan. Only one camera that he could detect, in the middle of the hall ceiling. Angling so that he was still out of sight of the open doorway, but could get a clear line on the camera, Ravage ran a more focused and penetrating scan on the camera. Pulling up the camera's design on his HUD, the cat-like mech ran the specs. Specialized processor programs were quick to analyze its abilities, weaknesses, and all the vectors of the lens angles. In merely the time it took for Ravage's tail to sweep back and forth, he already had knowledge of all the camera's blind spots and a plan to hack it for his own use. Optics slitted half-closed in satisfaction, tail making another lazy, pleased sweep, Ravage trotted over to the shelves. Climbing up to the top of them, he activated his foot magnets in his forelimbs and reached up to the ceiling. Testing the grip, he pushed a little more power into the magnets then pulled himself up on to the ceiling. Once his back feet were on it, he activated their magnets too. A few cautious steps to make sure he had the power setting for the magnets correct, then he was trotting across the ceiling.

 

Walking across the ceiling was not hard, although he had to transfer to the wall to go through the door. There was a blind spot, just in the upper corner of the door and then on the ceiling from the door to the camera, that Ravage was going to exploit. Slipping through that narrow unobserved space meant hugging the door frame and squeezing as close to the upper right hand corner of the opening as possible, making sure that he never dropped down into camera range. He was _just barely_ small enough to do it. It took a few interesting contortions to stay within the safe zone, but he managed it. Then he had to belly-crawl across the ceiling until he was within cabling range of the camera. The cone of safe zone narrowed and lowered the closer he got, and he had to flatten himself completely to the ceiling to get the last few inches he needed. Then he cautiously slipped one front leg forward until it was close enough to reach with his extended cable.

 

Once plugged in though, it was sparkling's work to hack the camera. He patched himself into it giving himself remote access to it, so that now he would be able to get a visual feed from it and always be able to observe this hallway, even while away from his new base. Then he set up a false feed for the Autobots to watch, one that had a looped shot of the closed door to the closet. If needed, he could allow the real visuals through to avoid suspicions. After all, an Autobot disappearing when they walked down this hall and reappearing in the next camera's feed would only draw attention to this place. But Ravage, as far as this camera was concerned, _Ravage_ would be a ghost.

 

Feeling a little smug, Ravage walked back into the closet, then dropped down to the shelf. Jumping down from there, he closed the door then turned to the door panel once more. There was a speaker there, presumably to pipe in alerts and announcements to anymech who might be in here at the time. Ravage decided to hack that too, just in case, and followed the signal back to the main computer. There he cautiously, slowly poked about until he found the hub he needed. Inserting a little slice of code that would send all alerts to him, even the ones that didn't go out on the general call, Ravage then carefully backed out. Now, unless a meeting was called via private comms or word of mouth, he should always have an idea of what's going down.

 

Satisfied that he'd done enough for now, Ravage turned to survey his new little domain. Opticking the containers and the furniture, he started sorting out padding and usable items and rearranging the pieces to provide comfort and cover. He'd go scouting in a groon or so, but for now, he was going to make this place livable.

 

**-=-=-=-**

 

The Autobots assembled in the mess hall at the appointed time, curious as to what the meeting call was about. It was the only place big enough to hold all of them, if they pushed the chairs to the walls and removed a few of the tables. It was also conveniently pretty much smack dab in the middle of the Ark, and covered by Red Alert's surveillance. Red Alert wasn't there, he was manning the security feeds. The officers had informed Inferno separately from the others so that he could help Red Alert man the defenses, and Ironhide managed to talk his way out of being at the general meeting to run patrols around the Ark. It was agreed that he could miss out, since staying alert was a sound idea. Not much that Ironhide could do anyway, aside from breaking up any fights that erupted, and they could always just call for him if that happened. The science officers decided to skip out as well, since Skyfire, Wheeljack, and Perceptor were still working on ways to mitigate the effects of the geothermal energon.

 

Jazz rejected the idea of not being there himself, as did Ratchet. Jazz stated that the crew would need him there as morale officer to help keep calm, and Ratchet refused to _not_ be there. After all, as CMO he should be the one to answer any questions, and relay health facts. So in the end, only Optimus, Jazz, and Ratchet were there as officers to see to the dissemination of facts.

 

Jazz looked out over the shuffling, murmuring crowd of Autobots, and wondered. How were they going to take this news? Who would be next to fall to a heat? What were they going to do about carrying mechs and sparklings in the middle of war with battles happening? Primus, it was like a volcano waiting to blow- they got the warning tremors and smoke with Prowl, but now the Bots had to watch out for the main eruption.

 

Although, thank the stars they had some warning. Jazz shuddered to think about what might have happened if they _hadn't_ found out about the energon. Just imagining a mech hitting the peak in the middle of a battle, or (more) hostage situations, or somemech being forced, or a carrier or sparkling being harmed because they didn't know about it until too late...

 

Giving himself a shake, Jazz focused back on the assembly, where Optimus was just beginning his announcement.

 

“Autobots, thank you for coming,” Optimus began. “We called you here because we have become aware of something that could affect your health. As it something that could have serious ramifications, but is not life threatening, we leave it to you to decide what we must do, after you have been given all the information. Ratchet, if you would explain?”

 

Ratchet stepped up and revved his engine loudly to silence those who had started talking. “Now that I have you attention,” he growled, “As Optimus said, it's serious but not deadly. In examining our medical files, I came across an unusual phenomenon. It seems that we have been healing better, and more thoroughly. I backtracked the start of it to when we changed over to geothermal energon. Seems the stuff is as potent as medical grade in itself, and the medical grade is five times more potent than that.” Excited murmurs and talking grew with that statement and Ratchet had to rev his engine again.

 

“However!” he shouted, glaring at those who dared interrupt the Hatchet. “We have also found out that our healing factor is not _all_ that the geothermal energon has messed with. It also contains Earth elements which we _can not filter out at this time_ without adversely effecting the quality of the energon, which mimic the chemicals that start a heat cycle.” Silence greeted that statement and Ratchet smiled wryly. “For those of you who are beginning to catch the idea- yes, this means that not only are we all in top condition, but we are swimming with heat chemicals. In other words, _all_ of us are ripe to be hit with a heat cycle.”

 

Shouts and worried questions burst forth at that announcement. Ratchet tried to continue, to answer the questions he could make out, but the noise was too great. Optimus tried to help, motioning for everyone to quiet down, but no-mech was paying attention. The combined worry and fear and confusion in the EM fields was beginning to sour into anger, and they needed to do something quick before some of the more volatile mechs started fighting.

 

Jumping up onto a table, Jazz let out his hip speakers, and produced a piercing, near-deafening whistle. It did the job. The sound cut through the rising noise and emotions and got the Bots all focused on him. Sure, there were many glares aimed at him and hands rubbing at audials, but hey, it worked.

 

“Okay mechs,” Jazz said, hands on hips, fingers tapping his speakers. “You need ta settle down an' listen. We ain't done explainin'. First- yeah, it's a shock ta hear our favorite energon is maybe a bit more 'n just super tasty. Second- yeah, heats aren't anythin' we really want happenin'. But! We've got the science mechs workin' on it already. They've been tryin' ta find a way ta filter it or make suppressants that work on the new chemicals, or somethin'. So, you c'n stop shoutin', 'cause we are already workin' on a fix. Now, the Doc-bot has a bit more ta tell ya, so be quiet, listen, and then ya c'n ask questions.”

 

“Thank you Jazz,” Ratchet said with a huff, and a narrow optics look for the rest of the assembly. “Now, if you'd let me finish- I was saying that for most of us, a simple change in energon will most likely halt the effects. Most grounders don't get heat cycles, aside from a rare spontaneous heat. If you switch to solar energon, most of you will hopefully avoid a heat. For those who are kindled, or have Praxian in their code, or are fliers- I'm sorry to say that a heat is _extremely_ likely for you at this point. But we are working on making suppressants which might be able to delay or stop it before it begins. Hopefully, we will have enough time to get those worked out before anymech begins a cycle.”

 

Silence met his words and lingered a few moments before a cleared vocalizer called his attention. “Yes, Cliffjumper?” Ratchet asked.

 

The red minibot looked uncomfortable, unhappy even, shoulders hunched and arms crossed. “It's true that anymech who is exposed to, or reacts to a mech in heat is more likely to go into heat themselves, isn't it?” Cliffjumper asked resignedly, shifting from ped to ped. “Because I _noticed_ what was happening a while back. It's why I made myself scarce for a bit. I... have seen what can happen with a ' _heat wave_ '. A whole community can trigger practically at once. It wasn't fun. Mechs got deactivated, and there were a few bonded pairs who ended up with a heat partner they didn't want because they couldn't fight them off.” He paused and looked around, then seemed to hunch up even more. “And minibots are different than full size grounders- we _do_ have heat cycles, just a very very long time in between. ”

 

The other minibots, who were kinda huddled around each other, shared glances. The bonded pairs, like Huffer and Brawn, shifted closer to each other. Beachcomber wrapped himself around Gears, and shushed the mech whose grumbled complaints had begun to rise in volume.

 

The officers reset their optics and looked at one another. ::Is he sayin' what I think he's sayin'?:: Jazz asked Ratchet, while Optimus looked at Ratchet wide-opticed and asked ::Is that true? Have you heard of that, Ratchet?::

 

Ratchet sighed, and answered. ::Yes, it's true. I was kinda hoping to avoid that issue, or at least ease them into it. Perhaps talk to the ones Prowl had noticed being affected more than the others first before announcing it to the whole crew. But yes, being exposed to a heat can mean a higher chance of entering one yourself. And since Prowl had to stay here until right before the peak of his...::

 

::Then we have all been exposed,:: Optimus finished. But before he or Ratchet could say anything, someone else spoke up.

 

“Why did you say that kindled mechs are more likely to go into heat?” Sunstreaker growled from his spot beside Sideswipe. His hands were clenched by his sides and he was ignoring Sideswipe who was trying to quietly talk to him. “What if we don't know if we have any Praxian or flier code in us? And what in the Pit do you mean about 'reacting to a mech in heat'?” Sunstreaker's voice had gotten louder with each question and the last was underscored by a loud engine snarl.

 

::Great, now I've got to calm the one mech I was really hoping to _keep_ from getting riled in the _first_ place:: Ratchet griped to Jazz and Optimus while he answered Sunstreaker's questions out loud. “What I mean about the kindled remark is that kindled mechs are more likely to have a spontaneous heat, or to have coding in their background that could increase the chances of a heat cycle. If you don't know _what_ coding you might have, then I can hook you up in the medbay, and do a code comparison check to find out. As for the 'reacting' bit...,” Ratchet sighed. He was going to have to explain, but even without saying Prowl's name, those not in the know would figure it out eventually. And the twins already knew, which is probably why Sunstreaker had asked what he did- the gold twin had put the bits of info together and wasn't happy about the answer. “We had a mech go into heat not long ago, and there were several members of the crew who reacted more strongly to the heat scent and the EM field changes than others did. Those that had the stronger reaction are the ones that might be more apt to go into heat next- well, aside from our fliers and their kin.”

 

Sunstreaker snarled, and whirled around, stalking to the exit. Everyone else wisely made a path for the gold twin. Sideswipe watched him go but didn't follow him. Turning back to Ratchet, Sideswipe asked Ratchet, “So, since we're kindled and we reacted, we are susceptible- whether or not we know what's in our coding, huh?”

 

Ratchet blinked his shutters at him and grunted. “So you _are_ kindled? Nice to know- that somehow never made it into your medical files.” He gave Sideswipe a sharp look, at which the red frontliner just shrugged and gave a lopsided grin. “Explains some things I have wondered about. But to answer your question- in a word, Yes.”

 

Sideswipe sighed and nodded. He turned and started to walk out after Sunstreaker, but commed Ratchet as he left. ::I had better go settle down the Dandelion of Doom, and make sure he doesn't blow the place up. Is there anything else we need to know?::

 

::Just that if you start getting symptoms, like increased temperature readouts, going through coolant faster, higher energon consumption, you should come to me and I will see about what we can do,:: Ratchet said with a sigh over the comm, while he helped Optimus answer the next few questions that had been shouted out. It looked like this meeting was going to take a bit longer than he had hoped for.

 

 

**-=-=-=-**


	32. Minor Flare Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Had a busy weekend and this chapter fought me. It's a long one though, so that should help make up for it ^_^

-=-=-=-

Ravage was glad he had hacked into the comms system when he did, otherwise he would have missed the general assembly call. As it was, he barely had enough time to sneak his way through to a point where he could access a video and audio feed of the mess hall. As annoying as the new defenses on the Ark were, Ravage had to admit it was certainly keeping him from getting bored, along with giving him plenty of practice and expertise in deactivating, detecting, and avoiding Red Alert's new gadgets.

 

Curious as to what could require a mandatory meeting for _all_ Autobots, Ravage settled in to watch and listen. He sat up in stunned surprise a few kliks later when the facts began to be shared by Ratchet. Geothermal energon did _what_?! Mechs going into heat? He thought that heats were just a Seeker-kin thing! After all, Ravage was here trying to find a way to rescue Thundercracker _because_ Prowl had gone into heat, but that had only happened because he was a Praxian! Wasn't it? Seeker and Praxians having heats were bad enough, let alone everyone else! Everyone _knew_ that grounders don't have heats, but here was Ratchet, the vaunted Autobot CMO telling everymech that such a thing was not only possible, it was _likely_.

 

Oh, he had to tell Soundwave! The Host could decide if Megatron or the others commanders needed to know, but Soundwave needed to know about this _immediately_. It was risk and opportunity all wrapped up together. And who knew how many of the Decepticons might need to look out for a surprise heat as well? After all, they took energon from mixed sources, some of which included geothermal sources. Not to mention that many more of the Decepticon forces were fliers or had flier coding in their backgrounds, or had partial flier coding _installed_ so that all of the forces could use antigravs and thrusters to fly. Hopefully the dilution with other kinds of energon from the fact they put all their energon in the same holding tanks, and the erratic consumption- all those lean times between raids- means the 'Cons avoid _that_ particular side effect! There are some 'Cons that Ravage shuddered to think of anywhere _near_ a sparkling, let alone having one themselves.

 

He listened in until the end of the meeting, diligently taking down facts as well as noting which mechs asked what questions, who seemed most worried, who reacted to what bits of news. Then he carefully made his way back to his little hidden closet HQ, staying ahead of the Autobots leaving the mess hall. Traveling partially by vents and partially through the momentarily empty halls- at least in the places where he'd already mapped out camera angles or circumvented the video feeds-, Ravage made it back to his HQ undetected.

 

Making sure his door was locked and all his traps and alarms in place, Ravage walked over to his safe, comfy corner behind the stacked chairs and boxes. Curling up on the berth he'd cobbled together of old padding and cushions, Ravage set a part of his processor to running the usual proximity sensors/alert/advanced warning routines while the rest of his mind turned inward and reached down the bond towards Soundwave.

 

Ravage sent the ping requesting a debrief. When he got an acknowledgment, he sent another ping, this time asking if Soundwave was alone and secure, in a place where he could digest the information without prying optics watching him. A brief pause, a sense of 'wait' while Soundwave quitted whatever company he was in and moved to a private place, and then another affirmative ping.

 

Plunging into their bond now that Soundwave was ready, Ravage let his excitement, worry and relief flow through. ~Soundwave, I haven't had much luck with the mission, unfortunately. However, the Autobots just had a meeting and I found out something you definitely need to know,~ he said, as he began to share the information he had just learned.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Soundwave sat in his quarters, still as a statue as he absorbed the information his oldest, and, though he would never admit to the feeling nor of playing favorites, dearest cassette sent him. But Ravage was _different_ from his other cassettes- he was not a _symbiont._ Cassette yes, symbiont no. Unlike the others, Ravage had not been budded from his own spark and then put into a frame, spark and systems dependent on him. No, Ravage was an independent minicon who had consented to be reformatted and bonded to Soundwave, long before Soundwave had ever even attempted a bud. And Soundwave was eternally grateful for that. Their relationship was closer to that of siblings or platonic bond mates, than that of master and servant, for all that Ravage deferred to him and followed his orders.

 

It was something Lazerbeak and Buzzsaw had accepted and understood- they knew the difference between them and Ravage. They loved Soundwave and knew he loved them, but also acknowledged the fact that Ravage had a separate, more mutual and equal kind of relationship with Soundwave. In addition, they had grown up knowing Ravage almost as a second creator, rather than a sibling. Rumble and Frenzy, not so much. Being the youngest, they had been created shortly before the war and still hadn't quite accepted the difference. Oh, they grasped the concept just fine, they just didn't like it. Perhaps it was because by that time Soundwave and Ravage had hidden their relationship behind the more apparent one of Host and cassette, thus making it harder for them to accept and believe that Ravage was _more_ , and _different_. Soundwave was often convinced that the reason the two little mechs were so prone to pulling pranks and reckless stunts was because of a lingering resentment, as well as trying to gain more individual attention.

 

Soundwave loved all his cassettes. Loved them as much as any creator would love their creation.

 

But he could not deny the fact that, in the end, Ravage was more his partner and less his subordinate than the others. It was the nature of things when you get down to it, after all- the other four were dependent on Soundwave, their sparks and systems small and needing Soundwave's to support them. Soundwave was, frankly, superior to them simply by virtue of the fact he had made them and could survive without them while the reverse was not so. It was extremely rare for a symbiont to survive a Host's death, and then only if another Host was immediately available to sync with. True, it would be painful for Soundwave if that were to happen, spark-rending even, but he would survive. For a while anyway. Soundwave really _did_ need the extra draw the cassettes pulled from his spark- Hosts, after all, were _made_ to support their cassettes. Host mecha had even been known to extinguish from the excess energy build up in their sparks, causing a spark burnout, if they were without symbionts for too long. It _was_ a symbiotic relationship after all, hence the name, even if it was skewed slightly in the Host's favor.

 

No matter how you read the data though, a symbiont could never be entirely free. Their systems, processors, even their very sparks, were dependent and needed to be supported, sometimes even controlled, by their Host. It was why in the old laws cassettes had often been labeled as mere drones, or as slaves. He sometimes wondered if the Autobots knew about that, and what they thought of Blaster and his little crew if they did. He was sure that the Autobots did not realize that Ravage was not an actual symbiont- but then that was mostly because Soundwave had made sure that the medical/personnel files any Autobot found stated that Ravage was a symbiont. It made it more likely for Ravage to be returned faster, and treated better in the event he got captured. Since symbionts _needed_ their Hosts and couldn't be away from them too long, while Hosts needed and were notoriously protective of their symbionts as well as known to be quite vengeful of any harm done to them, it was only smart to keep a symbiont's stay short and comfortable.

 

Again, it was different with Ravage. Oh, Soundwave was no less protective of the cougaraider cassette, but there was no true system/spark _need_ for him to be returned quickly like the others. In fact, Soundwave had bonded with Ravage and taken him as a cassette before his systems had even been ready for a symbiont, technically. A Host's spark needed time to condense and gain energy after being created, and usually the sign they were ready for their first budding was when their spark surged. The surge was like a mini nova almost, in that as a Host's spark condensed, it built more and more energy until it hit a certain point, then expanded again with a huge release of that energy, bringing the docking systems online and often prompting the spark to bud for the first time as well. After that, the baseline energy output gradually increased over time to support addition symbionts, with occasional mini surges that spawned more buds. The older the Host, the more symbionts needed, and the shorter amount of time they could go without any before burning out.

 

Soundwave took Ravage as a cassette vorns before that first surge ever happened. The early bonding with Ravage only worked because Ravage, even though he still docked and shared data, did not actually draw on Soundwave's systems- aside from the occasional energon top-up, done via a special hose all Hosts have to feed any symbionts who remain docked for long periods of time. All of Ravage's systems were independent and functional on their own.

 

Soundwave's high energy spark also meant that it was even easier for him to spark up a partner, even outside of a heat. Just one reason of many why the dark blue mech had taken few lovers in the past, and even fewer since the start of the war. And listening to Ravage's report, it was a good thing he'd taken that precaution, especially since having awoken here on Earth. Primus knows how much geothermal energon the Decepticons had actually consumed, and it was a miracle none of the slaggers had accidentally kindled yet as it was.

 

~Good job, Ravage. This was indeed something that I needed to know right away,~ Soundwave said after Ravage had finished relaying all the info. Spark to spark via the bond, Soundwave's voice had the same multitonal, resonating quality as usual, but the monotone and the distinctive speech pattern were gone. Though he would never admit it, that was less an affectation and more the result of an extremely mild glitch in his communications processors. ~I will have to backtrack, research, and find the sources for the energon we got on the raids. While I believe most of it is hydro, electrical, or solar, it would be best to check. And I am unsure if the batches made from crude oil or gasoline- from which much of our last few raids' energon came- count as geothermal, or would have similar properties or not.~

 

The last statement had a questioning tone to it, and Ravage correctly took it as a request for more information. ~I don't know,~ he answered truthfully. ~I will have to find a way to see their research notes to know for sure. And if they haven't tested that, do I have permission to add a query to their notes to point their investigation that way, or do you want to find out some other way? By which I mean, are you going to tell Megatron or anyone else, or enlist the aid of the Constructicons?~ Ravage asked.

 

~No need to tell Megatron,~ Soundwave growled. ~I won't give that mech another way to control us, nor give him more newsparks to destroy. I will think about whether or not to bring in the Constructicons. They are loyal to Megatron, but I have reason to believe they would be willing to shift their loyalty for a better opportunity. In fact, a look at their coding may reveal that their loyalty and cruelty isn't so much _gained_ , as _enforced_ \- I remember them before the war, and they were builders, exacting and abrasive, but _not_ destructive, violent, or cruel as they are now. Excepting perhaps Bonecrusher, but even then his love of destruction and demolition was used for creation, in the capacity of clearing ground, of tearing down the old to make way for the new. It is just one of the reasons I have for suspecting Megatron and Shockwave of meddling with Decepticons' programming, since long before the Combaticons and the Stunticons came about.~

 

~It would certainly explain some of the odder, meaner, and less stable members of the troops,~ Ravage agreed.

 

~But to answer your question, yes, go ahead and leave the Autobot scientists a hint or two to expand their research,~ Soundwave continued. ~Whether or not we tell the Constructicons, we can at least have the answer through the Autobots.~

 

Ravage sent acknowledgment and affection through the bond. Soundwave sent pride and fondness back, and just sat with the bond open between the two of them for a long moment. Then, reluctantly, Soundwave nudged Ravage back to his mission, and narrowed the bond again with a final pulse of warmth.

 

Now, Soundwave had some research of his own to do regarding this new development.

 

 

-=-=-=-

 

Prowl didn't know what had happened, but he began to see Skywarp on an almost daily basis. Now true, many of these little visits were merely a 'hi-how are you- just grabbing energon- bye' kind of thing. But it helped reduce some of the monotony. Not knowing why Skywarp was popping in was beginning to annoy Prowl though, so he resolved to corner the Seeker at least long enough to ask him today when he showed up.

 

No sooner had he thought that, than he heard the distinctive sound of Skywarp's transwarp drive and thrusters. The sound grew closer, then thumped to a landing outside the door. It creaked open and Skywarp bounced inside with a cheerful greeting.

 

Since the purple and black Seeker proceeded to head straight to the energon converter- _again_ \- Prowl decided that it was high time for that confrontation. Walking silently behind the humming jet, Prowl, well, _prowled_ after Skywarp until he stood directly behind the black wings. All the time alone had given Prowl plenty of practice at moving silently, despite the length of chain attached. One merely needed to pick it up, and prevent it from dragging on the floor to move about silently. Considering that pacing was a habit that Prowl had, it had been a relieving thing to learn. The clanging and scraping had about drove him mad before he grabbed it one day out of frustration, and subsequently learned there was enough slack that he could hold it above the floor and still pace. He'd soon learned how to move without making the links even jingle. It had been a solid joor's diversion for Prowl, learning all the ways to move so as to avoid making the Primus damned chain ring.

 

Now, he employed all that learning to move in silently behind his mate and stand there, arms crossed over his bumper, field pulled in tight. Skywarp's wings twitched, but other than that he didn't register Prowl's presence. Still humming to himself, Skywarp filled up as many cubes as would fit in his subspace and stuffed them in there. Then he filled up six more, balancing them in his arms, and turned around.

 

Turned around, to come face to face with a less-than-amused Praxian. Jumping back with a startled yelp, Skywarp bumped into the converter and wobbled, nearly falling. One of the cubes did fall, but Prowl snapped a hand out and caught it before it hit the floor.

 

“Smelting Pits! How the frell did you sneak up on me?!” Skywarp exclaimed, wings high and back, and arms holding up the cubes like some kind of improvised wall to shield him from sneaky mechs. Prowl merely raised a brow ridge at him, a slightly amused smirk playing at the edge of his mouth, as he set the energon cube on top of the pile in Skywarp's arms.

 

“You make enough noise, humming to yourself, it wasn't that hard,” Prowl said. Letting the smirk grow on his face and amusement bloom in his field, he added, “Although, if you had been paying attention to your surroundings, you wouldn't have been surprised. I saw your wings twitch- your proximity sensors picked me up just fine.” He turned and walked back to the berth, sitting down. Smiling at the put-out expression on Skywarp's face, he patted the berth-pad beside him.

 

Huffing, Skywarp ambled over, remarking as he did so, “See, that's what I mean- how did you manage to walk up behind me and then back over there without making the chains clank!” He set the cubes on the shelves in the headboard then flopped onto the berth, turning onto his side to look at Prowl. “You got a bunch of stealth systems hidden under your bumper or something?” Skywarp asked, opticking that generous expanse of plating with interest.

 

Prowl's doorwings bobbed in amusement and a real smile crept over his face. “No, but you are not the first mecha to wonder. I do have a few noise dampening mods on my engine and vents, but nothing that could really be labeled a 'stealth system'. I have always run quiet, and I learned how to move even quieter. It did come in handy as an Enforcer, when moving into position to apprehend criminal mechs without getting noticed.”

 

“So you were always sneaky, huh?” Skywarp asked with a grin, before his brows furrowed as he turned thoughtful. Looking up curiously, he asked “How long were you an Enforcer? Were you an officer? I mean, most patrol grunts were pre-programmed mechs, even in Praxus where more mechs were kindled; I know you _were_ kindled, and I know most kindled mechs tended to become officers in the Enforcers. But you just said that you were out in the field apprehending criminals and not behind a desk, so I'm curious.” He propped his helm up on his hand, and turned big red optics to Prowl, face expectant. “Tell me about yourself?” he asked, flickering his optics like a begging mechling.

 

Prowl pursed his lips, and thought for a moment about deflecting the conversation, but decided to indulge the Seeker for now, and answer. He just hoped it didn't set a precedent in the Seeker's mind that all he had to do was flicker his optics at him to get what he wanted. But it _would_ be nice to talk to somebot for a little bit, even if this wasn't the topic he would have chosen. “I was an officer, yes, and I was an Enforcer almost as soon as I got my final adult frame and upgrades,” Prowl said, settling more comfortably on the berth, laying on his side and mirroring Skywarp's pose. “I was a field officer though- my duties were to coordinate strike teams and oversee large operations, and to help organize, coordinate, and keep information flowing during citywide events. When not in the field, I was collating all the reports, data, and numbers for my division, keeping them ahead of all the crime trends, problem areas, and other statistics. It's why I was given the tactical computer I have.”

 

“Wait, if you were an Enforcer starting so young, then when did you become an officer and get the computer?” Skywarp asked, with a small frown.

 

Prowl sighed. This was why he should have changed the topic. He hated talking about this part. “I was an officer from day one. And I've had the tactical computer from about the middle of my mechling upgrades.” At Skywarp's sharply drawn in-vent and flared field of _concern-outrage-protest_ , Prowl sighed and explained. “I agree, it's unorthodox, and risky to give such a thing to a mechling, but it was my Sire's decision. Well, less his decision, and more the only option he had. While _I_ am not a pre-prog, my Sire _was_. Unfortunately he still owed the city for his contract when he left the force and bonded, so it was decided that part of how the remainder would be paid off was this-” he gestured to himself to encompass the computer and his Enforcer paintjob “- that I would be 'gifted' the upgrades and work for the city of Praxus as an Enforcer for the length of time left on my Sire's contract, then I would be able to apply for any government job I wished.”

 

“That doesn't make it right!” Skywarp protested, scooching a little closer and reaching out with one hand to pull Prowl closer.

 

“No it doesn't,” Prowl agreed with a sigh as he let himself be tugged into leaning against Skywarp's frame, “But that was the way of things on Cybertron then. I admit I was also … _encouraged_ to go military, otherwise there was talk of taking back the tactical computer, even though I wished to remain in the Enforcers.” He nodded at Skywarp's angry hiss, his own engine growling in remembered anger. “Indeed. My systems finished developing with that battle computer there, and the thing is fully incorporated with my processors, and even if I survived the removal, there was a large possibility that I would be irrevocably damaged. It can be shut off without harming me, but not _removed_. So of course I took the posts that they pushed at me with not-so-subtle suggestions. Which led me to being sent to Iacon and becoming part of the military there. The rest is history, as the humans say.”

 

Skywarp grumbled and huffed, but eventually settled as he cuddled Prowl. Prowl allowed it while he organized a few of his own questions in his mind. “So, since I answered your question, would you be willing to tell me what you need all that energon you keep gathering for?” He asked after the Seeker had been quiet for about half a breem. He felt Skywarp tense up next to him but the jet remained silent, so Prowl continued. “I assume, since it is from a secret source, that it is for you and Starscream, and maybe some of the other Seekers? You made mention that your fliers were underfueled and that Starscream was looking for ways to help his mecha.”

 

“I don't remember saying that,” Skywarp protested in a mumble.

 

“Hm, perhaps you didn't. I might be extrapolating from the amount of fuel you have been taking from here and how often you top up while here,” Prowl conceded. “However, I am correct, aren't I?”

 

“No it's -” Skywarp started to deny, then stopped and sighed. “Yeah. You're right. I've been bringing energon back for me and the Coneheads. Starscream is working on getting them on our side.”

 

“'Your' side?” Prowl asked, with a raised brow.

 

“Uh, well,” Skywarp floundered and sputtered for a moment before giving up on trying to find a lie and shrugged. “Yeah, _our_ side. By which I guess I mean not Megatron's.”

 

“...You said 'you and the Coneheads'. Aren't you bringing energon back for Starscream as well?” Prowl wondered aloud after a klik of silence.

 

Skywarp startled and tried to cover it with a shift in position, pressing even tighter against Prowl. “Oh, well, yeah, of course.”

 

Prowl just stared at Skywarp from far to close with a frown and a quirked brow ridge, field full of disbelief, and eventually the Seeker sighed. “Alright, so, maybe Megatron is punishing him and Starscream isn't allowed to refuel right now, and therefore all the energon I bring back is for me and mecha other than Starscream,” Skywarp said, voice rising almost like a question at the end.

 

“Why the Pit would Megatron deny Starscream fuel?” Prowl asked, confused and slightly aghast at the notion of starving one's SIC. Of starving _anyone_ really. But especially when fuel shortages were a major factor in the _start_ of all this conflict. It just seemed somehow even more cruel to inflict that on a mech when they had fought so long and so hard for the ability, the _right_ , to have enough energon for themselves. Even if they _were_ a Decepticon.

 

“Nope, not getting into it,” Skywarp stated,his own field held tight so as not to betray how angry and worried he was. He squeezed Prowl closer making him grunt, and rubbing his face against Prowl's helm as he shook his head, “I'm gonna be in enough trouble as it is when Star finds out I told you that much.”

 

Wiggling to get free and pushing to regain a little space- he was feeling a bit smothered here!- Prowl rolled onto his back. Skywarp snuggled in close to his side again, wrapping both arms around Prowl's own arm. Prowl allowed it, since now at least he wasn't smooshed bumper to cockpit with the suddenly overly-cuddly Seeker. “How long has he been without energon?” Prowl asked, prompted by curiosity and a surprising flicker of concern.

 

“Uh, only a little more than half an orn, so it's not like it's been too long yet. I mean, we've definitely gone longer than that when the picking during raids is slim,” Skywarp shrugged the wing he wasn't laying on. “He's hungry, but we don't have to really worry about his fuel levels until a couple of deca-orn have passed.”

 

“But even if his rations are being monitored, you have the energon from here. Surely he can drink that in secret instead,” Prowl said, frowning.

 

“Well, yeah maybe, except that Megatron is having Screamer's levels checked every solar cycle,” Skywarp muttered with an unhappy grunt. He bounced his chin on Prowl's shoulder tire for a moment, then perked up. “Oh, right. Speaking of Starscream, I'm gonna bring him here in a little bit, and he's going to replace a part on the converter. Said he finally found a fluxuator something-or-other in better condition, and will swap it out. Says it'll increase the potency of the solar energon. That's good news, yeah?” He grinned at Prowl, optics bright and wing wiggling, field pulsing with pleasure at doing something good for his mate.

 

The big optics and grin, along with the satisfaction from being helpful and the wiggling wing reminded Prowl rather strongly of Bluestreak, and he couldn't help but smile back. That reminded him- “I know this is off topic, but I wanted to tell you thank you for helping me speak with Bluestreak,” Prowl said, reaching over and patting one of the black and purple arms still wrapped around his. “It was impolite for me to wait five solar cycles to say that, especially since I know you and Thundercracker really didn't need to allow us to use your bond like that.”

 

“Uh, it- it wasn't that big a deal. It was just a trade, you know, so that TC can get something he wants in return” Skywarp said, optics looking everywhere but at Prowl.

 

Prowl could feel the coolness from the coolant flushing through Skywarp's frame, and had to press his lips together to keep from smiling at the Seeker's embarrassment. “True,” he said, “But I appreciated it anyway.”

 

Skywarp mumbled and shuttered his optics, squeezing Prowl's arm and pushing his face into Prowl's shoulder. Then a klik later his head popped up, optics open. “Oh! Starscream's pinging me. Be right back.” He stood up and vanished before Prowl could say anything.

 

Deciding he didn't want to be on his back when his unexpected company arrived, Prowl levered himself up. Leaning against the headboard, he took one of the cubes that Skywarp had put there and sipped at it. He got about halfway through the cube when the two Seekers appeared with the usual _vwop_ and purple flash. Starscream merely nodded at him and then walked over to the converter to begin fiddling with it, while Skywarp flopped onto the berth and snatched a cube for himself. Prowl watched Starscream work and listened to him mutter and gripe.

 

When it looked like Starscream was done with the replacement, putting the various opened panels back into place, Prowl clicked his vocalizer. “Thank you. I know that the stronger energon is not just for my benefit, but I appreciate it none-the-less,” he said, dipping he head at Starscream.

 

“Hmph. No, it isn't just for you, but I suppose it is nice to know that you are not above being grateful,” Starscream huffed, as he drew a cube from the machine. He pulled a scanner from subspace and ran a few tests, nodding at the results. Walking over to the two on the berth he thrust it out. “Here, one of you try this and make sure that the stuff it edible. The tests say the energy should be quadrupled from what it was before, but that doesn't mean that it tastes good.”

 

Prowl set aside the half-full cube in his hand and took the one from Starscream, white fingers brushing blue. Examining the cube he remarked, “Well, it certainly is brighter, which is a good sign.” Taking a sip his brows rose in pleasant surprise. “Oh. Yes, that is much stronger, indeed! I admit I was getting tired of the somewhat bland taste of the solar energon it was producing before, but this is bright and crisp and just a touch sweet. It's much better.” Prowl continued drinking the energon.

 

Starscream smirked in satisfaction. “Excellent. I tweaked the bi-axial fluxuator, and replaced the palladium coating with a platinum coating. As I thought, that improved the output and increased the energy gained and conserved in the energon making process.” He preened as Prowl made appreciative noises, sipping the energon until it was gone.

 

Skywarp frowned however, looking at the cube in his hands. Walking over to the converter he pulled a cube. Taking a sip his wings rose high in surprise. “Whoa!” He turned to see both Starscream and Prowl watching him with confused looks. “Pits, _yeah_ , it's stronger Star. Stuff's nearly got the kick of medical grade or a high end mid-grade, and the taste is enough to make my chemoreceptors buzz a bit. What kind of stuff have the Autobots been drinking that a nice sweet crisp, if somewhat weak, solar energon is bland? This stuff _really_ has a kick.”

 

Starscream frowned and stomped over. He stuck a finger in Skywarp's cubes, ignoring his protesting squawk. First a finger dipped in the regular cube, and he stuck it in his mouth to taste. Then a dip in the improved energon and a taste. His optics widened. Then narrowed. Looking at Prowl, he said “Skywarp is right. True, he's always been a bit of a sparkling and likes sweeter energon, while I have always preferred a tarter flavor, but I have to say that this does indeed have quite a kick. Enough that most mechs wouldn't like it over the regular. What kind of energon do the Autobots generally drink?”

 

“Geothermal, as I have mentioned before...” Prowl said slowly, head tilted as he took in their reactions, doorwings forward and focused on the Seekers. “It was unanimously voted the favorite, and since it was also the most potent and plentiful where we are, we switched over to it about a stellar cycle ago.”

 

“Does it have a strong flavor?” Starscream asked as he began to pace, finger tapping his chin.

 

“Well, yes. It took some getting used to at first, because the taste _is_ strong, but it is still quite pleasant,” Prowl answered, then narrowed his icy blue optics and asked suspiciously “Why?”

 

Stopping his pacing, Starscream waved a blue hand at Prowl. “Oh, nothing. I just find it interesting that such a potent and strong flavored energon became _every_ mechs' favorite. Pits, even among my trine we can't agree on what type of energon we prefer, and that's just three mechs. Three of the same frame type even, and I'm sure you know that different frame types prefer different flavors and types of energon. Makes me wonder what else is in it to make it so universally favored.” The tri-colored Seeker raised a challenging brow at Prowl, crossing his arms over his cockpit.

 

Taken aback, Prowl's doorwings twitched and he reset his optics. Thinking about it, Starscream was right. “I... have no idea,” he said at last. “I never thought about it that way. Honestly, I was just glad that the crew finally agreed on something and that we no longer had to rotate out the energon types to make everymech happy. Listening to the complaints when a certain type was on the rotation longer than another, and the whining when the type somebot preferred wasn't available got exceedingly annoying.” He shrugged his doors. “All I know is it's tasty, potent, passed our quality checks, and everyone liked it. I had enough to worry about I never thought about it being odd...” Prowl frowned, looking back through his memory files, using his battle computer to quickly sort through and tag instances where a mech had commented about energon preferences. As the data was organized, Prowl noticed a trend, and his doorwings rose in surprise. “Huh. It seems that you are right. Not every mech liked the geothermal to begin with, but as it went into the rotation, more and more mechs noted a preference for it, or commented that the other types no longer tasted as good. Interesting. I wonder if this is something that Ratchet should look into?”

 

Starscream snorted. He turned to the converter and began filling cubes and putting them into his subspace. Looking at Prowl over one wing he remarked “As unusual as it is, I doubt there is anything to worry about. After all, you Autobots praise his abilities enough, surely your medic would have noticed by now if something was wrong?”

 

“Yes, I suppose so,” Prowl agreed, though he still frowned and made a note to bring it up with Ratchet when he was no longer imprisoned.

 

While he was preoccupied with his thoughts, Starscream and Skywarp had a little argument. He tuned back in when he heard Starscream growl. “No, I will not remove the new piece, or put the old palladium coating back on it! I don't care if you don't like the new flavor, get used to it! You aren't the only mech who is relying on this energon converter anymore, and the stronger it is, the better for everyone and the more we can ask in return for giving them fuel,” the white Seeker yelled, waving his hands about to emphasize his words, wings twitching in agitation.

 

“Are you also giving Soundwave energon since you are colluding, or is it all going to the other Seekers?” Prowl asked, affecting nonchalance. Starscream's helm whipped around to look at him, mouth dropping open. “I am very good at putting facts together, and reading between words and actions to piece together what's happening, Starscream. I figured it out on my own, Skywarp didn't tell me, in case you were wondering.”

 

Regaining his composure, Starscream sniffed and said, “None of your business, Autobot.”

 

“Hm, I was just curious, because if you are planning to get Soundwave's cooperation in taking out Megatron, giving him energon might be a good incentive,” Prowl said, voice carefully neutral. Starscream still gave him a dark look and crossed his arms defensively.

 

“If you are going to pry, then I think it is time for us to leave,” Starscream said with a huff. “Skywarp, take us back” he commanded, holding out an arm.

 

“Wait!” Prowl shouted. Both Seekers startled and looked at him. “Please,don't go just yet. I... need nanites and energy for the sparkling?” he said, looking a little uncertain. “It has been a while since our last merge Skywarp, and if you are willing, maybe we could interface? And... Unless you have to go, Starscream, or are worried about the energy expenditure in an overload, I am inviting you to stay as well.”

 

Red optics narrowed and then Starscream turned on Skywarp with a hiss and a scowl on his dark face. “You told him?” he growled menacingly.

 

“Told him what?” Skywarp yelped. The reply -~About Megatron's orders!~-came over their bond and Skywarp wilted. “Oh. That. Uh, yeah, I kinda did.” He flinched at Starscream's snarl and hurriedly explained further. “It was an accident, and he'd mostly guessed anyway! Besides it's not like he can do anything about it, or tattle, being kept here,” Skywarp grumbled, a hint of defiance in his voice as he threw a glare at Starscream.

 

Unfortunately, Starscream caught that look and it was the last bit of agitation needed to break the stressed Seeker's control. Too much fear, anger, worry, and stress, and being unable to get away from it, always on the defensive, finally tripped Starscream into a fight, a need to have control and dominance over _something_.

 

Starscream took a step towards Skywarp, wings high and engine snarling, denta bared, claws spread ready to strike him. _Rage-aggression-frustration_ lashed from his field as he loomed over a defensive Skywarp. A touch on his wing startled him and had him whirling around, claws raised. The sight of their carrier-mate halted his arm's swing, though his engines still snarled. Prowl crooned at him, purring his engine, field projecting calm-deference- and pet his chestplates until the Seeker's engine lowered from shriek to rumble. He stepped back when it seemed Starscream would no longer attack his mate.

 

Starscream vented harshly for a few kliks, watching Prowl with bright optics, and his field suddenly shifted to _dominance-lust_. Lunging forward, he caught the Praxian in his arms, bringing his mouth down over Prowl's for a savage kiss. Prowl responded in kind, field showing _acceptance-submission-lust_ , engine revving as he kissed Starscream back, uncaring of how his own claws had come out and were digging into the plates on either side of Starscream's cockpit.

 

Starscream left Prowl's mouth and nipped and suckled his way down to the black and white mech's throat, where he bit down on the main energon line right above the collar. Not too hard, but enough that Prowl could feel the tubing indenting a little and could feel the Seeker's growls vibrating through the mouthful. He let Starscream slowly herd him back towards the berth- not that he could get away, what with the denta in his throat and the arms locked around him, claws dangerously close to his doorwing hinges. Well, not without a fight anyway, and he had no intention of doing that. Instead he played his claws lightly over Starscream's pectoral vents and purred his engine louder, pleased when that made Starscream's fans kick on.

 

The backs of his knees hit the berth and he and Starscream tumbled down onto it. Prowl grunted when his doorwings were squashed under the weight of both of them, grateful that there was generous padding on the berth or that might have hurt. At the sound, Starscream pulled his hands out from where they were trapped under Prowl's back, and ghosted his claws over the twitching panels. Prowl shivered and moaned at the almost ticklish sensation. Movement caught his optics, and he saw Skywarp approaching behind Starscream. Feeling a hint of concern over the mate-bond, Prowl sent reassurance, about his consent and pleasure. Nodding, the black Seeker moved to stand at the head of the berth to watch with bright interested optics as his trineleader pleasured his mate.

 

Starscream seemed to sense the distraction and growled, squeezed the edges of Prowl's doorwings. Prowl twitched, then gave a long moan when Starscream proceeded to slip claws under his door handles. He could feel a smirk against his neck where Starscream still bit, though more gently now, giving the occasional suck and lick. Starscream turned more attention to his doorwings then, continuing to delicately run claws over sensitive seams, plates, and edges. He soon had Prowl writhing on the berth, doorwings fluttering like mad as much as they could against the padding, gasping from the touches. The lightness and the pinpoint touch of the claws seemed to focus all his sensor net on them, until it hummed in near-oversensitivity.

 

It was almost too much, but yet felt so good, and Prowl retaliated with his own claws. He toyed with vents and cockpit seams until Starscream actually growled and pushed away a bit, releasing Prowl's throat, trying to lessen the touch. Taking advantage, Prowl used to space to move his arms and reach around to give Starscream's pretty white wings the same kind of treatment Prowl's doorwings were getting. Soon enough he had the Seeker groaning and twitching as well. Hitting one particular sweet spot made Starscream freeze, claws curling, scraping along his doorwings plates much harder than before. The slight touch of pain from the scratches tripped through Prowl's already maxed out sensor net, and sent him into a small overload. Prowl arched with a gasp, clutching at Starscream.

 

Engine growling lowly, Starscream stood up. Prowl's claws scraped down the Seeker's back as he tried to hold on to him. With a short snarling rev of his engine, Starscream grabbed Prowl's hips and yanked him to the edge of the berth, until his hips were hanging off of it. Prowl grabbed the edge of the berth and wrapped his legs around Starscream's waist to keep from sliding off. Not that he had to worry about that really, not with the way Starscream's hands were firmly holding his aft up. The sound of a modesty panel folding away and a spike pressurizing made Prowl's engine rev.

 

Starscream shifted his grip on Prowl's aft enough to free one hand. A pleased hum came from the Seeker when Prowl's panels slid away, baring his valve, with nothing more than a light touch. He brushed a finger around Prowl's anterior node and slid it through the welling lubricant at the entrance of Prowl's valve, testing and smearing it around. Giving Prowl a hard-edged grin, Starscream grabbed the Praxian's hips again, lined up his spike, and thrust in in one smooth push.

 

With that, Starscream began an intense, fast pace. Unable to do more than grip the padding and hang on to keep his position on the berth, Prowl keened and moaned. It was all Prowl could do, to show his pleasure. Starscream's hands kept him from moving his hips, and his precarious position half hanging off the berth meant that he couldn't touch the Seeker. Tossing his head, Prowl arched and shouted when Starscream shifted just a little bit and the new angle lit up a whole new set of nodes in his valve. Making a satisfied sound, Starscream adjusted his stance and made sure he hit that spot in Prowl's valve over and over again.

 

It did not take much more for Prowl to hit overload, head thrown back with a cry. A few thrusts later Starscream followed with a shout. Trembling, he half lifted, half pushed Prowl farther onto the berth and collapsed onto it next to the panting mech. They lay there, plating fluffed, fans going hard to cool off.

 

Skywarp joined them, sitting next to Prowl on the side Starscream was not occupying. He lightly traced the scores Starscream's claws had put in Prowl's doorwings, making the black and white mech hiss and shift slightly. Starscream lifted his head up to see why Prowl made the noise, then propped himself up on an elbow. Frowning, he touched the lines in the nearest doorwing. They were not so deep as to need welding, but they had gone through paint and in some places metal. What energon had seeped had already stopped, and self repair would have no problem fixing it. Still...

 

“I didn't realize I had scratched you that badly,” Starscream murmured in a slightly abashed tone.

 

Somehow sensing that that was about as close to 'sorry' as Starscream ever got, Prowl smiled. Rolling over to face the white Seeker, Prowl said “Well, I rather enjoyed it at the time. Although I wouldn't like for you to do anything more damaging than a few light scratches like that. Besides,” he added, holding up his own clawed hand, “I think you'll find I gave as good as I got.”

 

Optics widening at the sight of the small drops of energon on Prowl's clawtips, Starscream reached around to feel his back. Skywarp leaned over to look as well, and snorted in amusement. “Heh. Yep, he scratched your back up just as good, Screamer. You'll have to remember he has claws as well next time,” Skywarp chuckled. “Serves you right for being so aggressive.” Laying back down he pulled Prowl closer with a slight glare for his trineleader over one black and white doorwing.

 

“Oh, I didn't mind the aggression. Much. Mostly because by the time we started interfacing it was less aggression and more dominance. And dominance games can be fun,” Prowl said in a even tone. Then he sighed a hot gust out of his vents. “I think carrier protocols also played a part- I had not intended to approach you like that while you were angry. But when you flared at Skywarp, I suddenly could only think about protecting my mate. Which meant appeasing you. I am not saying that I had no choice, or that I didn't desire you, Starscream, just that I think carrier protocols influenced how dominant I let you be, and how submissively I reacted.”

 

Skywarp made an 'ah ha' sound as his memory files dredged up a relevant fact, and piped up then to share it. “I remember my Carrier doing that when he was heavy with my sibling. He reacted exactly like that when his mate's trinemate got upset and went after the two of them. It worked, turned the aggression from a fight to sex. I thought it was just the way my Carrier handled it with that particular trine, didn't realize it was a coding thing,” he said with a shrug.

 

“Hm,” Prowl hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I can see how it would work to protect a mate, and by extension the newspark, by playing up to creator coding. Fighting and mating are are rather closely linked, and the natural protective urges around a carrier would lend itself to turning aggression to lust.”

 

Starscream huffed at the restating of the facts, but Skywarp grinned and nodded. He nuzzled the back of Prowl's helm, proud of his mate's logic. “Yup, trines work together to protect carrier-mates and sparklings. Guess that's just another example of how our coding and protocols work together to do that.”

 

“Indeed,” Prowl agreed. He took a long look at Starscream, who appeared to be relaxing finally, and then turned in Skywarp's arms until he was facing him. “Perhaps now that we've settled down, we should merge before you really do have to leave,” he suggested, patting Skywarp's chestplates.

 

Skywarp grinned. Tightening his grip on Prowl he hefted the Praxian up as he sat up- giving himself enough room to move his wing- and flopped onto his back with Prowl on top. Not expecting the move, Prowl let out a surprised sound. Skywarp smirked up at Prowl smugly, who was now sprawled over him. “Sure, we can merge, just thought you said you wanted nanites too,” he said, as he grasped Prowl's thighs and settled them on either side of his hips, and rolled his hips up into Prowl's still bared array.

 

“I suppose I did make that suggestion,” Prowl gasped, as he rocked his own hips down against the Seeker's silver panels. Skywarp obligingly shifted his panels aside, and let his spike pressurize. Prowl rubbed his valve against it, enjoying the feel of the spike sliding through his lubricant and rubbing up against his anterior node. Skywarp gasped and rocked beneath him, but only let Prowl do it for a few moments more before he grabbed the black hips dancing over his own and stilled them long enough to thrust home into the welcoming valve.

 

Prowl moaned and stilled, valve still sensitive from the earlier interfacing. Skywarp kneaded his hips, twitching with every subtle move Prowl made while he waited for his mate to be ready to move. Bracing his hands on Skywarp's canopy, Prowl rolled his hips. Both of them groaned at the sensation. Prowl did that a few more times, then shifted his hands to grip Skywarp's shoulders and leaned forward. That gave him more leverage. He tensed his thighs and began to rise and fall, taking Skywarp's spike in whatever rhythm suited him. Not that the Seeker minded, what with the fingers in his shoulder vents and the fluttering valve clenching around his spike feeling so good.

 

Rocking above his mate, Prowl kept the pace until he was close to overload. Sitting up just a bit, he opened up his chestplates as soon as there was room. Skywarp happily followed his lead and opened his as well. The merge was intense, for all that it was not very deep, with the two of them already so close. Sharing their pleasure sent their charge skyrocketing in a klik. Holding on as long as possible, they moved together and stroked each other's wings until one caress too much sent them over the edge at last. Crying out in duet, the charge surged then funneled towards Prowl's spark, where it curled around the newspark.

 

The sparkling happily twirled and spun in the energy, absorbing what it could. It sent a little pulse of love-recognition-joy to the two big sparks near it. Skywarp and Prowl both froze for a moment, stunned, then rushed to send happy loving pulses back. This was the first time the sparkling had really shown awareness, and Skywarp was ecstatic that he'd been able to feel it too.

 

Slowly they pulled apart, Skywarp sending a few last pulses of love to the newspark before they disengaged and closed their chestplates. Prowl rested his forehelm against Skywarp's as they lay there. He could still feel the sparkling whirling about, though he could no longer hear it. Skywarp though, was practically singing along the mate-bond, joy, love, and pride in the sparkling shining through.

 

“What in Primus' name has Skywarp so happy?” Starscream asked, startling Prowl.

 

Unshuttering optics he hadn't realized he'd closed, Prowl turned his head to look at Starscream. The tri-colored Seeker lay with his helm propped on a fist, brow furrowed as he watched the two of them.

 

“I felt the sparkling, Star!” Skywarp chirped, grinning at his trinemate. “He actually sent a little pulse for the first time and I was there to feel it!”

 

“Ah,” Starscream said with a blink, then smiled at Skywarp. “That's good.”

 

Prowl smiled and patted Skywarp as he eased himself off the Seeker. They both hissed as Skywarp's spike slid free, components over-sensitive. Prowl sat on the berth, pulled a cloth from subspace, and gently wiped clean the outside of his valve before closing the inner panel. He left his his modesty plate open though. Turning to the Seekers, Skywarp still happily babbling on about the sparkling, Prowl clicked his vocalizer. Attention gained, he asked the two of them, “Shall we use the washracks before you have to leave? I would appreciate it if you have the time.”

 

Skywarp eagerly got off the berth and changed out the collar for the cuffs, and led him over to the showerhead. Starscream followed, and set to scrubbing Skywarp's plates as Skywarp worked on Prowl's. With the cuffs, Prowl wasn't able to help as much as he wished, but between him and Skywarp, they got Starscream gleaming as well. The scratches on Prowl and Starscream were inspected once again, but there was no new energon on them, so they just cleaned and buffed out what they could. When all the lubricant and transfluid and scuffs had been washed away, and modesty panels once more covered interface arrays, they turned off the water and took turns drying and polishing. Skywarp still fluttered his wings happily every now and then, while Prowl had a slight smile. Even Starscream smiled as he looked at Skywarp's dopey grin.

 

Dried and tired, Prowl headed back to the berth. He paused when Starscream called out for him to wait. Turning to see what the Seeker wanted, he watched him fetch clean berth covers from a sealed container on one of the shelves against the wall. Together they switched out the covers. Putting the dirty ones in a different container, Skywarp promised Starscream he'd come back for them and launder them later when he had room in his subspace to carry them.

 

Cuffs were swapped for collar, Skywarp nuzzled Prowl's chestplate with a happy coo to the sparkling, and then the two Seekers left with a flash.

 

Sitting on the clean berth, Prowl sighed. As well as that went and as much as Prowl knew that every bit of influence he could exert on Starscream via interface and creator-trine protocols was a good thing, Prowl wish he'd had more time to pick Skywarp's brain module. The black and purple Seeker was obviously the one most likely to tell him what he needed to know. The little bit of information he had gained this time was helpful, and Prowl gladly added it to his plans and calculations, but he had hoped for more. Perhaps next time. He sighed again. Seems that he was always promising himself to get more info- next time.

 

Any information he gained would have to wait until he was with the Autobots to truly be useful anyway, he acknowledged. With a stretch and yawn of his vents, Prowl lay down. For now, he would continue to gather what he could and hope that the Autobots were close to finding him.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 


	33. Wind Carried Sparks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. *waves sheepishly* Sorry about how long this took to get to you. Real life interfered. I was helping a family member get her classroom ready for school, then I got sick, and then we had guests. I know, excuses excuses, but between all of that, there wasn't much time/energy to write.  
> However! This is a nice long chapter, so it should make up for the delay, i hope ^_^

-=-=-=-

 

It had been eight solar cycles - Thundercracker thought the humans called it a 'week'- since he used the bond to let Bluestreak talk to Prowl. He had thought that maybe the 'visits' would end after the young Praxian got what he wanted, but they continued. Every other day Bluestreak met him in the same room, and they talked. Sometimes it was halting and stumbling, the both of them trying hard to avoid bringing up difficult things. Other times it flowed smooth, Bluestreak listening raptly as Thundercracker told tales about life on Cybertron, Vos, and his own youth. Through it all, Thundercracker could feel his spark opening to the gray mechli- mech. Mech, not mechling, no matter how young he sometimes acted. Thundercracker had no idea what he would do when he finally returned to the Decepticons- Bluestreak had firmly wedged himself into TC's creator-trine protocols as a related youngster. There was no way he would ever be able to fire on Bluestreak, even in a battle.

 

Not to mention Skyfire, who came to visit once more just two solar cycles ago. Shooing a protesting Jazz out the door, Skyfire had firmly stated that he could handle a solitary Seeker in stasis cuffs, and wanted to talk to him alone. Huffing, Jazz allowed it, but said he'd be waiting right outside the door. Once alone- mostly- Skyfire asked Thundercracker to talk. The white shuttle had wanted him to tell about Starscream, to hear about what had happened during the war. Thundercracker obliged- most of it was things Skyfire could find out anyway just looking through records- but made sure to tell _their_ side of it. He shared how it all started, the ideals the Decepticons first fought for- peacefully for the most part, aside from minor skirmishes and riots, until Vos happened. He described how it devolved, how it became a spiral of violence and vengeance, and how even the Autobots did unspeakable things. How iron-fisted a grip Megatron kept on his troops, on Starscream, with threats and violence, while Starscream strove to protect his people. How trapped they had become with neither side willing to yield to the other- or rather, Megatron's unwillingness to stop until he ruled them all.

 

Skyfire had listened, asking questions when needed, but for the most part sat silently and absorbed the information. When Jazz came back in to fetch him, the shuttle had solemnly thanked Thundercracker for the talk, and left. Thundercracker had wondered what Skyfire took away from their talk all the way back to his cell. And Jazz. Despite Jazz being outside the door, Thundercracker was sure the black and white saboteur had heard everything that had been said- he and whoever was monitoring the room's security cameras. But Jazz didn't mention it or ask any questions, just led him silently back to his cell.

 

That was two days ago. Yesterday had been a visit with Bluestreak again. What today held was a mystery, at least until the Autobots deigned to collect him for whatever activity they decided Thundercracker was needed.

 

Thundercracker was jolted out of his musings when he heard the sound of ped-steps headed his way. Perking up in curiosity- it wasn't time for a 'visit'- Thundercracker moved to the center of the cell and stood waiting. Sure enough, Jazz, Ironhide, Ratchet, and Skyfire all stopped in front of his cell. Ironhide stood just a little off from the group, weapon out, gun pointed casually in Thundercracker's direction. Ratchet carried a small case with a scanner and something else in it. Jazz was empty-handed, as was Skyfire, but while Jazz had an air of slight amusement and ease, Skyfire was clearly excited or worried. Or both. His large white wing were going through a whole dance of motions, twitching and fluttering.

 

“Go ahead and open it, Jazz,” Ratchet said, flipping a hand towards the bars. Jazz deactivated the bars, and Ratchet stepped in. Both were careful to stay out of Ironhide's line of sight to Thundercracker. “Alright, Thundercracker, we're going to get you prepped to go on your flight. That means making sure you're healthy, so a few scans first, then I'll be releasing the clamps and inhibitors on your thrusters. Then I will attach the monitor device you will wear. Be polite or Ironhide will reprimand you- with a blaster shot more than likely, and I'd rather not have to fix that.”

 

Thundercracker nodded, eagerly. He stood still, aside from some excited wing flutters or moving how Ratchet requested so the medic could plug in the scanner, and look over him. Over his bond he poked his trine. ~The flight! I will be allowed to fly today!~ Excitement and a sense of scrambling to get ready and make excuses so they could leave came back in reply to that announcement. It was swiftly replaced by frustration and fear. ~Star, Warp? What's wrong?~

 

~We _can't_ go. I'm stuck in a meeting with the slaghead, and Skywarp is on duty with other mechs who'd notice if he disappeared. In fact, they may have been told to watch him. Unicron curse it, the best chance we have to free you and neither of us can help!~ Starscream cursed.

 

~ _Who cares_!~ Skywarp protested. ~I can be out and back before they even notice! And it's not like I have to bring Thundercracker _here_ , where Megatron will see him. I can just take him to the island!~

 

~No Skywarp! Not with the Combaticons watching you. Onslaught is too canny and I am _not_ going to give _Vortex_ an excuse to hurt you. Besides, Megatron is already suspicious. I... made the mistake of mentioning you, Thundercracker, the other day where Megatron could hear. He _reminded me_ -~ a wince at the memory came along the bond, as well as a brief flash of imagery(Megatron grabbing Starscream by the wing and the throat, slamming him to the bulkhead, a growled reminder that neither he or Skywarp were to attempt to retrieve their trinemate or he'd _punish_ them, a hard painful wrench to the wing to remind what said punishment would be). ~ -of his previous orders, and made it very clear he'd be watching the two of us.~ Frustration bled across from the bond from all three of them at that reminder. ~But... I might have a plan. Give me a breem.~

 

Thundercracker sighed as the bond went silent. Ratchet chuckled, and he refocused his optics on the medic, who was kneeling right in front of him and detaching the last piece of the thruster inhibitors.

 

“Getting impatient?” Ratchet asked, as he stowed the parts in his box, grabbed a different device, and stood up. Thundercracker gladly took the offered explanation for his sigh, and nodded. Ratchet chuckled again. “Well, just open up your cockpit for me, so I can get this hooked up so you can go.”

 

“What is it?” Thundercracker asked suspiciously, even as he opened the yellow canopy of his cockpit. He twitched as Ratchet reached in and started plugging and attaching the device to various points.

 

“It's a different type of inhibitor,” Ratchet explained. “Wheeljack and I made it. Skyfire will have the remote, and it will let Skyfire control your flight, or even shut you down if you try anything stupid. Attack or try to fly away, and he will bring you in. Your weapons, and sonic ability have all been disabled anyway, and the only channel on your comms is the one I just enabled. It's linked into all the fliers who will join you, plus it's encrypted, and monitored by Red Alert. All Autobots can hear it, so don't bother to try and send any messages to your side with it. So really it's best if you don't try anything and just enjoy your flight time.” He paused the grinned, a hint of mischief in his aquamarine optics. “And don't worry, we thoroughly tested it out already, so there's no chance of it exploding or anything.”

 

Thundercracker gave Ratchet an unamused flat stare, and the device a wary glance (that was _not funny._ Even he had heard of Wheeljack's reputation for things exploding), but just nodded, letting Ratchet finish up before closing his canopy. It felt odd, having the device in there, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Ratchet ran a few tests to check the connection, ran one last scan and declared him ready. Ironhide and Skyfire flanked him, while Jazz lead the way, Ratchet trailing after.

 

As they headed to the entrance of the Ark, Thundercracker couldn't hide the rise in his excitement, wings high and twitching, though he had to keep to a sedate pace so as not to aggravate his guards. As they neared the entrance with it's open doors and the bright sunlight streaming in, he had to fight not to run ahead, which would surely get him shot. Taking a few deep in-vents to settle his systems down, Thundercracker resettled his plates with a shiver. Well, whether or not Starscream's plan- whatever it was- worked, at least he would get a flight. As they stepped out into the sun, Thundercracker couldn't help but hope that Starscream's plan happened _after_ he'd had a nice long flight.

 

…......

 

Starscream shifted in his seat to cover the excited sweep of his wings when Thundercracker told him it was flight time. Then he remembered. Thankfully, he didn't need to suppress the scowl on his face when the memory of Megatron's threat and orders replayed- he just poked at his datapad like he read something that displeased him. While he talked to his trine, he let his optics wander, his gaze shifted from the datapad, to Megatron, to the monitor where Shockwave was making his report from Cybertron, to Soundwave. He narrowed his optics at the blue Host as a sudden thought struck him. Why not ask Soundwave for a little help while the opportunity was there? Immediately he scowled again, but covered it with a “Hm” and poked at his datapad again like he'd thought of something. (Well he had, just not pertaining to anything Megatron was saying.) Why in Primus' name was he thinking about involving Soundwave any more than he already was? He certainly wanted his trinemate back, but he didn't want Soundwave to be the one to save Thundercracker! If he did, then Starscream would actually have to _fulfill_ his half of the bargain. But... but he was stuck. There was no way for him or Skywarp to help TC without paying for it. Especially right now, while Megatron was reminded of what he'd said, angry at Starscream, and his goons were monitoring Skywarp. So... so he needed to talk to Soundwave, now, while there was an opportunity for rescue, and get him and his minions working while Thundercracker was out of the Autobot's base and somewhat free.

 

Telling his trine he had an idea, Starscream narrowed the bond and thought hard. Starscream paid careful attention to appearing calm and mostly attentive while Megatron lectured about his next plan of attack. Inside, his processor whirled, as he tried to come up with something other than involving Soundwave. Would it work? Yes. Maybe. Did he like it? Unicron's exhaust, no! His optics drifted to Soundwave as he thought. Begrudgingly, he acknowledged that he was just wasting time after a few more kliks of mental scrambling. Starscream resigned himself to asking for help. Letting an oft-used subroutine keep track of proceedings and alert him if Megatron focused on him, Starscream sent a ping to Soundwave.

 

Getting an immediate response, Starscream opened a comm channel. ::Thundercracker just informed me that the Autobots are letting him out to fly today. Is there any way your cassettes can get to him?:: he asked the Host.

 

**::** Possible. Lazerbeak: outside Ark, observing. Ravage: inside Ark- might be able to create diversion, or at least create path for rescue while Thundercracker is out and Autobots attention is elsewhere, **::** Soundwave replied, without even an outward twitch or flicker to betray he was doing anything other than listening to Megatron and transcribing the warlord's demands and plots onto a datapad as usual. **::** Query: How soon is the flight? **::**

 

Starscream asked Thundercracker via bond and relayed the answer. ::From what Thundercracker says, right now. As soon as they fit him with some sort of device, they will take him outside.::

 

**::** Lazerbeak: will fly as close as possible, observe, try to contact Thundercracker. Ravage: will stay inside, work on escape route, **::** Soundwave said.

 

::Thundercracker said his comms are out. The Autobots disabled them, except for one highly encrypted flight channel that the Autobots are using and monitoring during the flight. Can Lazerbeak still talk to him using that, without getting caught?:: Starscream asked.

 

Soundwave was silent for a klik. **::** Possible. If Lazerbeak fails: Starscream and Soundwave can continue to relay messages as currently doing. **::** Megatron asked a question and Soundwave smoothly shifted his full focus onto the Decepticon leader to answer. Starscream waited impatiently for Soundwave to finish, but then he had to answer a question as well, and Soundwave stayed silent while the Seeker was busy talking to their lord.

 

**::** Buzzsaw: on way to Ark now also. Will work with Lazerbeak to watch, communicate, create diversions, **::** Soundwave said when Megatron's attention had turned to Shockwave, and they could focus on their secret conversation again.

 

::Yes, that will work. I will tell Thundercracker to be on the look out for Lazerbeak, and Buzzsaw as well. He'll know that they are looking for opportunities to help him escape.:: Starscream commed. He sent the new plan to Thundercracker, who agreed, and said he'd work with the cassettes however he could.

 

**::** Query- Starscream: willing to meet Soundwave in quarters, after meeting has ended, to better facilitate communication in event Lazerbeak fails to contact Thundercracker? **::** Soundwave asked. **::** Also- Soundwave: has information that Starscream should know. **::**

 

Starscream gritted his denta, and released a slow ex-vent from his vents. He really didn't want to spend any more time with Soundwave, but it was for Thundercracker. He sent an affirmative. ::Yes. Hopefully this meeting does not take too much longer. I will meet you a breem after Megatron dismisses us.::

 

Soundwave pinged acknowledgment. Their conversation ended, though their comm lines were still active. Just in case Thundercracker or a cassette had anything to relay, though so far TC was just sending the occasional comment about the Autobot fliers. The rest of the meeting crawled by for Starscream, though it was actually over in short order. Megatron dismissed them both and turned to Shockwave to continue a more private conversation. Starscream gladly slipped out of the room. He sent a quick check in with Thundercracker, who told him he'd only just gotten into the air, and let Skywarp know where he was going to be and what he was doing. Skywarp was skeptical but resigned to waiting. Soundwave went straight to his quarters, presumably, since that was where he was headed, and where they were going to meet. Starscream, however, spent several minutes walking through the base before ambling back towards the officer's quarters. He bypassed his own rooms, and with a look around to make sure no one was watching, pinged Soundwave. The door opened and he entered.

 

“Well, here I am, so let's get this plan working, yes?” Starscream grumbled, after the door closed and locked behind him. He stalked over to the couch. Soundwave's brats weren't there, and Soundwave himself was sitting in the chair, so he sat in the middle and lounged, taking up as much room as he wanted. “And what was it that you wanted to tell me?” He asked, as he tapped his fingers on his thigh.

 

“Suggestion: focus on freeing Thundercracker, or facilitating later escape. Information: will be shared after,” Soundwave said. He leaned back into his chair and got comfortable. Tilting his head he asked, “Query: wish to hardline to make communication faster, easier, or continue using private comms?”

 

Starscream made a harsh sound, and sneered at Soundwave. “Comms will be fine. I would infinitely prefer not to hardline unless it's needed, thank you.” Soundwave didn't say anything, just nodded his head. He did send an acknowledging ping through their comms, reminding Starscream they still had a line open. The Seeker huffed, and flicked a wing. “Well, Thundercracker is in the air. Are your cassettes close?” he asked.

 

**::** Affirmative **::** Soundwave replied through comm. His attention was already more on his cassettes and what they were seeing, and he found it easier to talk to Starscream this way than to try and split his focus more to talk aloud.

 

::Alright, then let's do this,:: Starscream said, as he hunkered down and concentrated on his comms and bond to coordinate his trinemate's hopeful return.

 

 

-=-=-=-

 

Thundercracker followed Jazz outside, flanked by Ironhide and Skyfire. They stepped out into a bright sunny day, with endless skies dotted with a few puffy clouds over the distant mountains. Already Thundercracker could feel his spark lifting, and his wings twitched as his optics locked on the sky. It took everything he had not to launch up into the air immediately.

 

“Oh, dude, yeah he's got it bad,” a voice said from nearby. Blinking his shutters, Thundercracker tore his gaze off the sky and turned his head towards the voice. Just a little bit behind Skyfire and off to the left side of the Ark's entrance stood all five Aerialbots plus Powerglide. One of the red and white Aerialbots- the shortest one with the yellow face- grinned, saying “He's totally twitching worse than Fireflight does after being stuck in the Ark for a week because of weather.”

 

“True,” said the tallest, with a half smile, “Fireflight is the one who gets twitchiest.” The other red and white flier, the one with the facemask- Fireflight, Thundercracker guessed- ducked his head. “But then again, _you_ complain the most, and the _loudest_ , when grounded, Slingshot.” The others all grinned while Slingshot sputtered.

 

Thundercracker looked on, amused, while Skyfire's lips twitched in a smile. “They will be flying with us,” Skyfire explained. “I have control of the remote, but being a shuttle my low altitude flying is not the best for keeping up with smaller flight frame playing and maneuverability. So they will keep pace with you while I fly parallel along the outer edge.”

 

Thundercracker raised a brow at the addition of so many mechs to the flightplan, but nodded in acceptance. Skyfire only spoke truth- shuttles were made for breaking atmosphere and interstellar flight. They were extremely fast, yes, but clumsy in the air compared to a Seeker or other smaller fliers when planetside. Besides, it would be nice to have other wings in the air, even if they weren't all Seekers. Thundercracker supposed it was also just plain precautionary planning on the Autobots' part too, having so many fliers in the air with him to corral him if necessary. “I know who you all are, having battled you in the air, and I am familiar with Powerglide,” Thundercracker said, with a wave of his hand at the red flier with the A-10 alt-mode, “But I'm afraid I know you more by sight and alt-mode than by designation.”

 

“Oh! Well, we'll introduce ourselves then,” Silverbolt said. “I'm Silverbolt, leader of the Aerialbots. Slingshot is the loudmouth here, as I'm sure you guessed,” he said pointing at Slingshot, who yelled 'Hey!'. Silverbolt ignored him. “This is Fireflight, our twitchy one,” he said with a smile and gestured at the one with the facemask, who waved. “This here is Air Raid,” a wave at the red and white flier with black wings. “And this is Skydive,” Silverbolt finished, putting his hand on the shoulder of the black and gray flier.

 

“Hm,” Thundercracker hummed, smiling slightly at the younger fliers who were all looking at him expectantly. “Thank you, it is nice to have a designation to go with a face. Well, as I'm sure you know, I am Thundercracker, the Right Wing of Winglord Starscream, Decepticon sub-commander, and currently, 'guest' of the Autobots.” He bowed his head, hand over spark, and swept his wings slowly out and up then back down. “I'm sure it will be a pleasure to share the sky with you, and to have you at my wings.” Lifting his head, he was confronted by the confused faces of the Aerialbots, who fidgeted and stared, but did not return the gestures. Powerglide, however, was rising from his own somewhat deeper bow in answer to Thundercracker, red wings just finishing their movement with a murmured “Our sky is yours and our wings also”. Thundercracker raised a brow ridge at the gestalt, and turned to Skyfire.

 

Covering his mouth to hide a smile, Skyfire clicked his vocalizer and said, “Yes, well, there isn't much call for formal introductions in a war. Sadly, we haven't had much time to teach the Aerialbots the proper ceremonial gestures and phrases. I suppose we had better do that.”

 

“Well, if they are ever properly introduced to Starscream, they will want to do it right, or he is likely to make comments and never let you forget it,” Thundercracker said, glancing at the others. “Skywarp, of course, couldn't care less. He's one to ignore 'fussy traditions' and 'boring stuffy words' when he can get away with it.”

 

“Why did you say that, PG?” Air Raid asked, with a poke to the red flier's wing, who hissed and swatted at him in turn. “It's not like he's a guest or anything, he's a _prisoner_ , and this is _our_ territory.” He sent a glare Thundercracker's way, with a slight wing rattle. Silverbolt reached over and gave him a little push and a muttered 'Settle down, 'Raid.' The push made him stagger, and he switched his glare to his team leader, but settled down somewhat. No more wing rattle anyway.

 

“Because he said the traditional words,” Powerglide muttered, crossing his arms defensively. “It's... _tradition_. And also because it's kinda like an informal declaration of truce amongst fliers. I've... exchanged a version of the words a few times during the war with Seekers, when flying in Neutral territory, to get out of having to fight them. Saved my life once, when I was injured. Also, Thundercracker, being in the Winglord's trine is technically higher ranked, or was, so on Cybertron, well in Vos anyway, his trine owned and guarded the sky, and commanded other fliers. The response was both acknowledgment and offering.”

 

“Well this ain't Cybertron,” Slighshot growled. Powerglide growled back and wings began to rise and armor fluff aggressively.

 

“A'right! 'Nough wit' th' history lesson f'r now!” Jazz yelled, making all the fliers startle and slick their armor down. “Powerglide has a point- it's traditions an' hist'ry an' stuff you Aerialbots don't know, so ya don't know the power of it. You're young an' while, yeah, this ain't Cybertron, some o' that's still useful- like the flier's greetin' truce thing. How else do ya think Cosmos manages ta stay in orbit all alone wit' two big 'Con shuttles up there all th' time, an' not get shot down? Yeah, some of it's he's jus' that zippy, but some of it's usin' things like that tradition.” He slanted a look at the Aerialbots who shuffled their peds and lowered their wings even more. “After this joy flight is done, I think we oughta schedule a bit of hist'ry lessons f'r the newsparks.”

 

The Aerialbots protested- more about the newspark comment than the lessons- but Jazz shooshed them. “Worry 'bout that later. Right now ya need ta be flyin',” he said, waving a hand at Thundercracker, who was waiting out the argument with barely concealed impatience and twitchy wings.

 

Things settled quickly, with only a few more comments from the Aerialbots, as they got into formation. The order of take-off was relayed on the encrypted channel, and Skyfire rose first. Slingshot and Air Raid next, who would fly above Thundercracker. Then Thundercracker, Fireflight, and Skydive, with TC in the middle and the 'Bots on his wings. Powerglide and Silverbolt took off last. Silverbolt would stay low and use his speed and size to catch Thundercracker if they had to use the flight control inhibitor on him, while Powerglide was their look out for any Decepticon activity in the air.

 

Thundercracker knew he should be looking for Lazerbeak and Buzzsaw, should be checking out where the grounders were. He didn't care. The moment he was in the air all he cared about was the freedom, the feel of the wind against his wings, the sun on his plating, and how his spark finally settled down and pulsed with joy. He reveled in those things for long breems, doing lazy loops and barrel rolls.

 

It wasn't long though, that he got a pulse across his bond from an impatient Starscream, wanting to know if he'd seen the cassettes, and sent their approximate location. Thundercracker finally settle into a steady flight and sent his sensors out. There they were, just at the farthest edges of his sensor range. He sent back affirmative, as well as the frequency of the special comm line the Autobots had set up, with cautions that they were monitoring it closely. He wondered if the Autobots had forgotten to factor in his trine-bond when they set this up. They hadn't forgot about it, he was sure, since they had used it for their benefit very recently, but had done nothing to prevent him from using it. Unsure if it was an oversight or a gesture of trust/kindness, either way, Thundercracker would use it to his advantage.

 

Starscream scoffed at the thought over the bond, sending disparaging remarks about soft-sparked, gullible Autobots. Then he relayed that Lazerbeak would work to find a way to hack the comm line if he could, so listen out for it. Thundercracker agreed, but most of his mind and spark were back on the joy of flying. He flew, rising and falling, banking and turning as he felt like it. Absently he observed that there seemed to be an unusual number of Autobots on the ground doing patrols, but dismissed the thought in favor of focusing on his flight.

 

A staticky pinging on the comm line caught his attention. None of the Aerials were reacting to it, nor did they look to be trying for his attention. Checking it, the ping appeared to be a few decimal points off from the actual secured line. Sending a cautious ping back, Thundercracker waited.

 

Lazerbeak's staticky voice came through. ::Thundercracker! You can hear me?:: Thundercracker replied in the affirmative, and Lazerbeak continued speaking. They flew in lazy circles like Earth hawks, Lazerbeak focusing on the conversation while Buzzsaw kept an optic out for Autobots. ::Thank Primus. I wasn't sure that you would be able to read this frequency, or if it would be off enough from the secured line that the Autobots wouldn't be able to hear it. So far so good, they don't appear to have picked it up yet. But we shouldn't waste time, I'm sure their Security bot will figure it out sooner than later if we take too long.::

 

::Would it help if I keep the original line full of chatter?:: Thundercracker asked.

 

::Perhaps,:: Lazerbeak sent. ::Doesn't hurt to try. Anyway, I hope you weren't looking for a rescue while you were in the air. Buzzsaw and I have been looking at their defenses, and the Autobots have gone all out for today- just about every grounder is out patrolling, they've added defense turrets, and with all the fliers around you, we can't get near you.::

 

Thundercracker listened, spark sinking in disappointment. He took a moment to issue a challenge to the Aerials around him, starting up a banter on the proper channel as he flew through a series of complicated maneuvers. It was amusing to see the other fliers scramble to follow and try to copy him. Skydive and Fireflight caught his optic- those two had no problem following Thundercracker as he swooped and rolled, streaked upwards and twisted, looped and danced through the air. They stayed solidly on his wingtips as he flew. Their voices filled the channel, with Thundercracker teasing and issuing challenges, banter flying through the air as fast as they were. Thundercracker flew hard, testing the Aerialbots. They flew well, even if only Skydive and Fireflight could truly keep up. Air Raid and Slingshot fell back, but their gestalt bond meant that they were able to coordinate more, and it became a game of 'Box In the Decepticon' that Thundercracker found difficult to avoid. Whether it was because it was a game, or because it was a cooperative effort, the Aerialbots flew wonderfully and TC had to really work to keep ahead of them. (TC was grateful they never seemed to hit this kind of excellence while engaged in battle, or he and his trine would be in trouble.) Silverbolt joined in the talk, but he stayed below, keeping to his job, though he occasionally helped in corralling the wily blue Seeker. Powerglide flitted in and out of the game, adding his own taunts and suggestions, showing off whenever he wasn't busy keeping watch on the perimeter. Skyfire chuckled and watched, adding his own suggestions and commentary on particular maneuvers. Overall it was lighthearted, engaging fun the likes that Thundercracker hadn't experienced in thousands of vorn.

 

All the while he flew and chatted with the 'Bots, Thundercracker talked to Lazerbeak. ::So, if you can't pull off a rescue this solar cycle, then what is the plan?:: he asked.

 

::Ravage is currently working on that,:: Lazerbeak replied. ::He's making a path of escape from the brig out. When and how it will work, is up to you- you two will have to settle the details. He's here for the long haul, so you two will need to set up a way to communicate.::

 

::Agreed,:: Thundercracker said. He paused as the flight game took his attention, narrowly avoiding getting stuck in the 'Box'. He taunted Air Raid and Powerglide who had let him slip by, then turned his attention back to Lazerbeak. ::So far, the Autobots fetch me from my cell every day for one reason or another. Usually to talk with one of them. It's always at the same time- two joor after the first shift starts. Could Ravage use that time to leave a message? I doubt that they will leave this comm line open for me. I'm sure as soon as we get back Ratchet will disable my comms again.::

 

Lazerbeak conferred with Ravage. ::Ravage says that should work. Ask for a datapad, and you can exchange messages that way. If they won't give you one, Ravage will find another way to contact you.::

 

Thinking of a possible problem, Thundercracker reluctantly gave Lazerbeak a warning. ::Tell him if he decides to talk at night, make sure I'm really awake before trying anything,:: Thundercracker cautioned. ::If he startles me or tries to cable in before I'm awake I won't be responsible for any damage he takes- I'm giving you the warning now.::

 

::Ah, yes, the incident with Jazz,:: Lazerbeak said. There was more static on the line as he ducked behind a rock formation, Buzzsaw having warned him that there was a patrol approaching. ::I will remind him to keep that in mind. If he forgets, than he can deal with the consequences.::

 

There wasn't much else for the Decepticons to say, and aside from exchanging a few more ideas, and clarifying a few details, Thundercracker was free to enjoy his flight. Starscream was dissatisfied with the vagueness of the plan, and let TC and Soundwave know it, but even his irritability was tempered by the sheer joy TC was projecting as he flew.

 

Finally, as the sun was beginning to set, Skyfire pinged them all, and announced it was time to head back. Thundercracker was willing to turn back. His spark was content and he was starting to feel a little tired, having burned quite a bit of energon, and his frame aching slightly from the exertion after so long cooped up. It could also be because he'd pulled a few stunts that were almost beyond his frame's tolerances trying to show off for the youngsters, but he'd deny it.

 

They landed in front of the Ark, the Aerialbots chirping, bouncing about, and talking excitedly, still on a high from the challenging flight. Thundercracker, though disappointed Lazerbeak and Buzzsaw hadn't been able to help him more, couldn't help smiling at their antics as he transformed to root mode. He, Powerglide, and Skyfire hovered above them for a moment, waiting for the youngsters to get out of the way, so they could land on the cement landing platform and not in the dirt. Better to avoid blowing sand and gravel about if they could help it; it was such a pain to get out of joints and seams. Touching down, the group of fliers was met by Ratchet, Ironhide, Jazz, and Optimus Prime. Thundercracker was a little surprised to see the Prime out there- the others he expected, since they were his usual guards. Next to Ratchet was a folding table with a heap of energon cubes on it and a small carry case under it. Ironhide stepped up to stand behind Thundercracker, gun held casually pointed his way. “If ya don't mind, Skyfire, Powerglide, stick right here with him while the youngsters go first,” Ironhide said with a nod at Thundercracker. Skyfire and Powerglide agreed, and stayed on either side of the blue Seeker.

 

“Alright then, you five flitterbots- Come over here and get some energon,” Ratchet called, “While I check you all out and make sure you didn't strain anything with all that fancy flying.” The Aerialbots swarmed the table, even as they protested that they were fine. Fireflight in particular huddled behind Silverbolt and tried to avoid Ratchet. Bemused, Thundercracker stayed back and watched the fluttery dance as each Aerialbot tried and failed to snatch a cube yet avoid getting grabbed by Ratchet. The Seeker wondered what was so dreadful about the medic that he intimidated the other fliers so. While he personally was wary of Ratchet simply because he was also an _Autobot_ medic, an enemy, even Thundercracker could tell the ambulance was mostly bluster and very little bite.

 

When each of them had been scanned and released to grumble into their energon, Ratchet gestured to the other three fliers. “Come on, you get a cube and a scan too.” Thundercracker moved forward to grab his own cube from the less crowded table. Powerglide and Skyfire stepped up with him. Ratchet started on Powerglide, plugging the scanner into the red flier. Seeing it was just the usual plug in, scan, results, Thundercracker dismissed it as a concern and selected some energon for himself. He had just lifted the cube to his lips when he heard Air Raid whine from behind him. Thundercracker turned, to see Air Raid making a face into his cube of energon.

 

“ _Ah_ , why is it solar? I was wanting geothermal! This just doesn't taste as good.” Air Raid complained, with a short annoyed rev of his turbines.

 

“You know why not,” Skydive said calmly, slanting a look at his gestaltmate.

 

“Yeah, but I don't care-!” Air Raid started to say when Skyfire interrupted him.

 

“You will be able to have geothermal again when we have fixed the problem,” Skyfire said loudly. “The dispenser is still under maintenance. In the meantime, you can try other types of energon and see if there is one you like better than the solar.”

 

Air Raid groused, but drank his cube. Thundercracker sipped at his and grimaced. No, it wasn't as good as what they had given him when he first woke up here. They had switched out what they gave him the day after the merge-conversation. When he'd asked about it, he got the same 'maintenance issue' answer. However, he didn't miss the way Skyfire cut off Air Raid and his brothers shushed him, nor the look Optimus shared with Ratchet. It made him wonder. What were they not telling him?

 

The Aerialbots finished their energon and wandered off, though Skyfire and Powerglide stayed nearby after Ratchet finished their check-ups. “Well, you two check out.” Ratchet said and pulled Thundercracker to his side, making him stumble a little. Ratchet ignored the glare he got from the Seeker. “Let's get you scanned and trussed back up, Thundercracker,” Ratchet said, as he scanned the Seeker. While that ran, he knelt, grabbed the case under the table, and reattached the thruster inhibitors. That done, he stood and plugged in to disable Thundercracker's comms. He finished that just as the scanner beeped that it was done with it's check. Reading the results, Ratchet saved the data and stowed the scanner. “Scans are good. You're fit and dandy, and had your fun, so now it's time to go back inside.”

 

Skyfire and Powerglide immediately headed inside, off to have some free time and catch up with friends. Thundercracker sighed, and cast a long look at the evening sky, but nodded and followed Jazz back into the Ark, Ironhide on his heels. Looking back just before the doors closed, he saw Ratchet step up to Optimus, scanner in hand. Frowning, Thundercracker wondering what that meant all the way back to the brig.

 

…...

 

Ratchet stepped up to Optimus, the scanner in hand, and sighed. He went over the data one more time, and glanced up at his leader and friend. Optimus watched him with concerned optics, brow furrowing over his battlemask.

 

“Ratchet? What is it, old friend?” Optimus asked, placing a comforting hand on Ratchet's shoulder.

 

“It's the Primus damned results from the scans,” Ratchet said, gesturing with the device. He sighed again, slumping a little, and leaning into Optimus. “It's what we feared. All of the fliers are reading healthy, fit, and- despite having drunk only solar energon for a week- _still_ brimming with those heat mimicking chemicals. I don't know what to do Optimus- I've tried isolating it, counteracting it, nullifying it, purging fuel systems and doing transfusions, different kinds of suppressants and changing energon consumption. So far nothing has changed the energon or system readings of _any_ of our mecha. I think it must be absorbed within the protoform itself. Which means that until I can come up with something that works or until a heat cycle happens, it's going to _stay_ in our systems. And to make matters worse, all the fliers are reading as if they could go into heat at any moment.”

 

“ _All_ of the fliers?” Optimus asked, teeking almost as worried as he sounded.

 

“Yes, all of them. Yes, even the Aerialbots, who we hoped would be too young,” Ratchet grimaced and rubbed at his chevron. The medic's white paint glowed in the last bit of light from the sun, already below the horizon. “Even Blades, who is also way too young. I'm hoping that despite the readings they won't go over. Powerglide, and Skyfire, however, could start a cycle any moment.”

 

“And Swoop?” Optimus asked, turning to the table and folding it up. He picked up the carry case and handed it to Ratchet, who stowed it in his subspace.

 

“Oddly enough, neither he nor any of the Dinobots seem to be affected as badly,” Ratchet said, frowning. He crossed his arms, tapping the scanner against his shoulder. “Wheeljack and I think it must have something to do with the fact that they were made here on Earth, and from Earth materials. They have the same chemical in their systems, but it doesn't seem to be reacting quite the same. None of the rest of us can say that.”

 

Optimus nodded, picking up the table and tucking it under his arm. He gestured for Ratchet to walk with him, and headed for the Ark's entrance. He took a few steps than stopped. “ _All_ the fliers?” he asked again suddenly, optics intent on Ratchet. “Even Thundercracker?”

 

Ratchet leaned against the Ark's doorway with a tired grunt. He looked up sky, mapping the first few emerging stars, avoiding the bright-glowing optics of his Prime. “...Especially Thundercracker,” he said at last, and muttered a curse. Rubbing his chevron again, he finally looked at Optimus. “I think he was already nearing a cycle, despite the conditions Decepticons apparently live with. That, or perhaps the shock of going from famine to feast jump-started his cycle when his code recognized he was suddenly healthy enough for it. I don't know. I just know that if we have him here much longer, we're going to be dealing with not only a captive Seeker, but a captive Seeker in the middle of a heat cycle. Which will not be good- aside from aggressive trinemates trying to get to him, Seeker heats are the most potent of any frame type.”

 

Optimus was the one to sigh this time, and run a hand down his face. “And there is nothing we can do about it?” he asked after a long moment of silence.

 

Ratchet just shrugged helplessly. “If there is, I haven't found it yet.”

 

Optimus gave a tired nod then pushed away the tiredness and stood a little straighter. “In that case, I suggest we put this away-” he shifted the table in his arms “- and think of a few alternative ideas to keep our mechs safe and keep anything like what happened to Prowl from occurring again. Perhaps over a glass of high grade in my quarters? I have a bottle of that Altihexan brandy you like somewhere that I would be willing to share.” His field was warm and inviting, and a smile made his optics crinkle at the corners.

 

Ratchet reset his optics, and then smiled. It was tired, lopsided thing, but it was there. He pushed off the doorway as Optimus walked up. Brushing his shoulder against Optimus' as he stepped beside his friend, Ratchet looked up into those warm optics. “Yeah, I think that sounds like a good idea. Lead the way, Prime.”

 

 

-=-=-=-


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And what was happening during Thundercracker's flight? Ravage being sneaky mostly. ^_^

-=-=-=-

 

While the Ark was almost empty, and everyone was focused outside on Thundercracker and any possible threats, Ravage quickly made his way to the brig. Well, as quickly as he could, while still avoiding all the traps and alarms that Red Alert had peppered throughout the vents, ducts, halls, and various crawlspaces.

 

It was more difficult than he though it would be. Oh, he had plenty of time, and so made careful, steady progress, but there were a lot more of the things to disable or subvert than even in his largest, wildest estimate. What had Red Alert done, Ravage wondered with a huff, dragged out and made use of every trap/alarm/sensor/monitoring device in storage and stuffed them around the Ark? (Little did he know, that thought wasn't far from the truth. And the rest were being used outside.)

 

Finally Ravage made it past the circle of devices guarding the brig area. With a relieved sigh, he spliced into the wiring connecting to the brig monitors. Now he just had to find the right video feed... There. That was Thundercracker's cell. It was the same one as before, so he knew which vents led to it, good. Attaching a tiny transmitter and control device to the wires, Ravage now had a way to control the video feed from the cell. Crawling a little farther, he examined the cell itself, cautiously dropping down out of the vents to do so. Pretty standard. Energon bars and a control pad, berth, room to pace a bit, and that was it. Ravage would have no problem hacking the control panel to free Thundercracker when the time came.

 

Jumping back up into the vent, he pulled the grate closed behind him. Next, he set up small explosive charges on doors and hacked locks and cameras on his way back, creating an exit path. Thundercracker would need it, after all- he surely couldn't fit in the vents!

 

As he neared the circle of devices surrounding the brig, Ravage realized something. Almost all of the devices were focused _out, not in_. They weren't focused towards the brig, as if expecting escape. No, they were focused _out_ , as if expecting rescue. Audials pinning flat to his head, Ravage made a near silent groan of frustration and dismay. Alright, so it might just mean that the Autobots were expecting there to have to be a rescue since Thundercracker wasn't exactly an escape artist, and he was known for being cooperative. But it could also mean a leak or spy somewhere. That maybe they knew the cassettes were trying to rescue the Seeker. And if that's was the case, then Soundwave had a problem.

 

Making note to mention it as soon as he got back to his Closet HQ and reported in, Ravage pushed the thought away for the moment. He continued clearing a path all the way to the outside of the Ark. There he set charges around an old breach in the hull, where rock had punched through. At the moment, the rock filled the hole, but with a little judicious and careful use of explosives, that rock could be blasted into pebbles, leaving a nice big hole for the Decepticons to use as their door. Calculating the angles and forces necessary, Ravage strategically placed the explosives, and set them for remote detonation. He'd blow them after he freed Thundercracker, when they were close enough the Autobots wouldn't find the hole first, but still far enough away the blast wouldn't harm the escapees.

 

Exit strategy in place, and escape path worked out, now Ravage had another errand to run. Off to the science labs! Ravage was familiar with where they were, though usually he was trying to get into Wheeljack's reinforced bunker of a lab, not the less fortified, more research oriented lab of Perceptor and Skyfire. At least that meant he didn't have to worry about getting caught in a blast, or trying to pry his way past the reinforced grates, vents, walls, ceiling, etc.

 

There were just as many of Red Alert's little bugs to avoid along his route as he made his way there. A good amount of them covered the labs, obviously there to protect the Autobot's scientists and inventions from Decepticon raiding. Lucky for them, Ravage wasn't here for sabotage or theft. As a matter of fact, he was going to leave them something.

 

Peeking into the lab, Ravage was surprised to see Wheeljack and Perceptor in there. Skyfire, he knew, was out in the air with Thundercracker. But Wheeljack should be in his own lab, and he was sure that Perceptor was supposed to be off shift. Just like a scientist to work on his own schedule.

 

He watched them for several minutes, as they measured, tested, added to and took from various small cubes of energon on the table. Listening in, Ravage realized they were working on the geothermal energon problem. Good. Now to get them to test gasoline derived energon as well...

 

Ravage had his chance when the pair of scientist, happily babbling away at each other, moved to a different table at the far end of the lab. Within moments they had their helms down, optics glued to microscopes, still talking to each other. Ravage silently slipped out of the vent, sensors at max and stealth systems fully engaged. Slinking over to the table, he retrieved a small cube of gasoline energon from his subspace and added it to the line of cubes on the table, though set apart enough and behind some equipment to suggest that they might just have missed it in a casual glance. Less suspicious, hopefully. They might just think it had been misplaced or pushed aside before they got there. And this way Ravage knew for sure they had a sample of that type of energon to test. (Yes, it was his favorite flavor energon hence why he had some in his subspace, and yes, some of his concern about it's properties was because it was what he usually drank.)

 

Checking to make sure the scientists were still engaged in whatever they were doing and unaware of his presence, Ravage grabbed one of the datapads lying on the table as well. A quick scroll through it showed it was more research into the energon problem, so he quickly pulled a blank datapad from subspace, plugged in, and copied it all over. He didn't understand a lot of it, but Starscream, the Constructicons, and even Soundwave might. Just before he placed the original back on the table, he added a line to it. A simple query- Does gasoline derived energon have the same problems/properties, since it was also formed from geologic and thermal processes? He used Skyfire's lab tag and changed the recorded time of the query to suggest that the shuttle had thought of the question, and maybe wrote it down before he left to accompany Thundercracker on his flight.

 

Mission accomplished, Ravage sneaked his way around the two oblivious scientists and back into the vents. The crawl back to his Closet HQ was easier and faster than all his other movement that day, since he'd already disabled or circumvented all the devices. All of those around his closet, in fact, he'd turned to his own use. After all, if Red Alert was going to leave them about, then Ravage was going to make use of them. It also helped keep his cover, because if the devices were still there then at a casual glance nothing looked to be wrong. Ravage had seen and heard a few patrols go by in the vents while he hunkered down in his Closet HQ, but they hadn't realized anything was wrong yet. If they were doing more than a visual inspection or just testing functionality then Ravage might have to worry, since they might find the ways that Ravage had hacked them. But so far his luck had held.

 

Safe for now in his little temporary berth, Ravage set his alarms and sent his report to Soundwave. He told of his success in making the escape route, and that he'd managed to get more data on the geothermal energon as well as leave the query, and his caution that the Autobots might suspect something from his observations of the way they placed their defenses. Satisfied with his work for the day, and bond thrumming with Soundwave's pride and love, Ravage fell into recharge.

 

 

-=-=-=-

 

Starscream had already spent a lot longer in Soundwave's quarters than he wished. And all for nothing! Despite coordinating efforts, and Thundercracker being out in the air, the cassettes couldn't do anything. They would have to wait, _yet again_. At least Ravage as able to get some good done, as Soundwave reported. The cat-like mech had managed to set up an escape route and would contact Thundercracker tonight to coordinate and solidify timing, the path they had to take, and other details. He'd have to talk to Thundercracker later over the bond to see what his trinemate and the sneaky little cat had worked out.

 

“Well, that was a failure,” Starscream huffed, as Thundercracker told him he was securely tucked back into his cell. He curled his lip at Soundwave. “Any other great ideas?” he asked with a sneer.

 

“Soundwave: will wait for reports from Ravage about escape plan,” Soundwave replied calmly, though his field had just a faint teek of irritation to it. Starscream smirked a little at that. “Now: Soundwave needs to tell Starscream what Ravage learned from Autobots.” The Host mech continued.

 

That wiped the smirk off Starscream's face. Sitting up straight in alarm, Starscream immediately started firing off questions. “What do you mean what Ravage found out? What have the Autobots done? Is it something that will hurt Thundercracker?”

 

Soundwave raised a hand to stop the agitated Seeker, and pulsed calm through his field. “Findings: not harmful. Effects Autobots also. Autobot medics and scientists already looking into it. Unknown: if Thundercracker affected. Possible: Some Decepticons might also be affected.”

 

“Then what _is_ it, you infuriating box of secrets?! Stop circling around the point and just _tell me_!” Starscream hissed, wings flaring and hands curling into fists.

 

Soundwave's visor flashed- in annoyance or amusement, Starscream couldn't tell. Either way, Soundwave gave a nod, and started talking. “Autobots: found that geothermal energon has unusual properties. Geothermal energon: stronger than other kinds and is more energy efficient, helps mechs heal faster and restores protoform, plating, systems. However- geothermal energon: also has heat-mimicking chemical that can not be counteracted and can induce heat cycles in mechs who ingest it. Medical grade geothermal: especially likely to jump-start heat cycle,” Soundwave said. He watched Starscream's face as the Seeker absorbed what he was saying. The Host was rather amused by the way Starscream's face went blank and his optics widened, though he hid it from his field or frame language.

 

“... what?” Starscream finally managed to whisper, after several long kliks of silence as he realized just what it was Soundwave had said. And all the implications. Geothermal medical grade energon... he drank five cubes of that almost an orn ago! And it did _what_?! And what about Thundercracker? Did his trinemate know? Had the Autobots been feeding him that slagging stuff? What would happen to Thundercracker if he went into heat in the middle of the Autobot base?! There was no way Starscream was going to let his trinemate suffer a heat in the hands of a bunch of grounders! After all, the Autobots couldn't even keep _their own SIC_ safe, how could he trust them to keep an enemy mech safe? Or expect them to respect TC's choices? Starscream shuddered at the thought of TC having to submit to the pawing of a bunch of Autobot grounders, unable to say 'No' because of a heat cycle.

 

“We have to get him out of there!” he cried, distress whipping through his field as his thoughts raced through worst-case scenarios. Venting fast as his systems revved up and his temperature spiked with the sudden strain, Starscream was too addled to flare his plating to allow some of the heat to escape. Even his spark pulsed fast, and Skywarp sent a worried ping through their bond as he picked up on some of the distress that bled through.

 

A heavy field wrapped around him, pushing _calm-soothing-peace_ until his own field yielded before it and settled. It surrounded Starscream, and blanketed his thoughts. A sense of ' _all's well_ ' and ' _don't panic, a solution will be found_ ' floated through his processors. Slowly Starscream's spark and mind calmed, and his venting returned to normal as he cooled. Flaring his armor helped deal with the last of the built up heat and he quickly dropped to normal operating temperatures. He sent a pulse of 'I'm okay, I'll tell you later' to Skywarp, who reluctantly stopped sending pulses of worry over the bond. He reset optics he hadn't realized he'd offlined to find Soundwave on his knees in front of him, hands wrapped around his. Starscream stared at him for a few stunned moments, before his natural suspicious and bristly nature reasserted itself and he yanked his hands out of Soundwave's grasp. “What are you doing?” he croaked indignantly, as he hastily raised his mental defenses again. At least he'd managed to keep from spilling his reaction over to Thundercracker, since his trinemate had enough to deal with as a prisoner. Bad enough Soundwave saw him lose control, and that he'd made Skywarp worry. He didn't need to add to TC's worries too.

 

Soundwave merely sat back on his heels and studied Starscream. That reaction was a bit extreme, even for the dramatic SIC. What was worrying Starscream so? Was it just the stress of the situation, or something else? Whatever it was, it was hidden behind Starscream's mental walls once again- he'd only gotten the briefest impression of a mind racing through possibilities and consequences before it was shut away again. He got a glare and a short wing-rattle in warning from the Seeker when he failed to move away after several long moments. Tilted his head considered Starscream's emotional balance, then nodded. The jet was as stable as he ever was for the moment. Getting up, he gave Starscream one more searching look, then walked back over to his own chair and sat again. They sat in charged silence, staring at each other. Finally Soundwave asked “Starscream: has any questions?”

 

Having mulled over what Soundwave told him, a detail stuck out, and Starscream pounced on it. “Yes- what did you mean when you said other Decepticons might be affected? We don't drink geothermal energon,” he said, optics narrowed at the navy blue Host.

 

“Incorrect: Decepticons drink mixed energon. Sources: solar, hydro, electric, nuclear, geothermal, and gasoline derived. Small percentage: geothermal, but possibly enough to affect mechs. Also- gasoline derived energon: unsure if it is considered type of geothermal energon or if it might have similar properties,” Soundwave stated, pulling a datapad out of subspace,and handing it to Starscream.

 

“Great, just what we need- the possibility of this bunch of Unicron-spawned mechs going into heat and having sparklings!” Starscream grumbled as he took the datapad. On it was Soundwave's research about the types of energon the Decepticons had hauled in on their raids, and the percentages. Geothermal was blessedly very low, at only about five percent of their intake. But gasoline was nearly half their intake, and Soundwave's concerns about it were unfortunately valid. Starscream skimmed the rest of the notes, which was mostly the information Ravage had relayed and dictated for Soundwave, and a few of Soundwave's own experiments with the energon they had. A note at the end stated more information incoming with Ravage's next report, and the plan to get the Autobots to research the affects of gasoline energon. Starscream raised a brow at that, but stayed silent until he had read all of it.

 

“I see,” Starscream murmured as he subspaced the datapad. “Well hopefully we haven't anything to worry about with our mechs then. And I will run a few tests of my own, when Ravage gets you the full report, and I know what it is I'm looking for. Maybe I will find something the Autobots miss.” Standing, Starscream flicked his wings, and resumed his mask of Decepticon SIC and Air Commander. “If that is everything?” he asked, with a cool look at Soundwave. Soundwave nodded, and stood as well, following him as he headed towards the door.

 

“Soundwave: will keep Starscream updated,” Soundwave said as the Seeker slipped out the door.

 

Deciding to head to his own quarters now, since he was off shift and free, Starscream crossed to his own door and entered. Passing through the lounge to his berthroom, Starscream lay on his berth with a weary sigh. He had a lot to think about. Including, should he tell his trinemates? Skywarp he should tell, in case he needed the teleporter's help getting away if he started a heat himself from all the slagging medical grade he drank. Thundercracker... the Autobots might tell Thundercracker themselves. If not... well, maybe he shouldn't mention it. IT was just one more thing to worry about. Then again, TC might try harder to escape if he knew there was a chance he might go into a heat cycle on an enemy base. Yes, better to tell his trinemate. But not right now. He was tired, and it had been a stressful day. He'd tell him tomorrow, Starscream decided sleepily, as his systems cycled down and he slipped into recharge.

 

 

-=-=-=-

 

 


	35. Firestarter

-=-=-=-

 

Reflector had spent almost an orn carefully considering their choices. During that time they made sure to watch Skywarp and Starscream and the Coneheads closely, and add to their findings. Now, they had come to a decision. Walking down the corridors to the quarters of the mech in question, Reflector compiled what he was going to share into a nice convenient file. Spectro hit the call button on the key pad of the door they wanted when they arrived and waited for a response from those inside.

 

“What?” growled a voice a few moments later from the speaker on the control pad.

 

“We have some information you might find interesting, and was wondering if we might step in for a bit to share it with you?” Viewfinder said, voice calm and smooth- business like even.

 

There was klik's pause, then the door opened. Onslaught stood looking down at the three short mechs consideringly, then stepped aside and waved them in.

 

Viewfinder bobbed his head in a nod, then they all walked inside. Onslaught shut the door behind them and waved them over to the seats in the living area. After Reflector had settled onto the couch, sitting so close to each other their plating touched, Onslaught sat in the chair opposite. The Combaticon leader watched them closely for several long kliks before asking “Alright, I'm interested. What is this information you think I might want to know about?”

 

“We know you have a history with Starscream, and thought you might like to know what he has been up to,” Viewfinder said, gesturing at Spyglass, who was pulling a datastick out of a compartment in his arm.

 

Onslaught growled, engine revving angrily. His visor flashed as he looked at the datastick. “And what, exactly do you want for this?”

 

“Nothing right now,” Viewfinder said as Spyglass set the datastick on the table in front of the couch. “Just your goodwill, and a favor. Perhaps Swindle's help in the future if we find something we want and can not procure on our own. Maybe a little bit of protection when we need it.” Viewfinder shrugged as Onslaught just stared, engine still thrumming. “We could always take this elsewhere, but we thought that you should have first offer. We feel that giving it to you would most benefit all of us, but you don't have to take it.”

 

Onslaught hesitated, visor narrowed. He didn't like favors, or owing someone. But an opportunity to get back at Starscream... “I will gladly take a look,” he said, picking up the datastick, and put it in his subspace. “We can discuss what that favor might be afterward.” Standing up, he motioned towards the door. “I will contact you after I have looked at it.”

 

Reflector shared a look between themselves then turned to Onslaught and nodded in unison. “Agreed,” Viewfinder said. “This is our personal comm frequency. Ping us when you want to have that discussion.” He sent Onslaught a comm ping with the private channel. They stood, followed Onslaught to the door, and with one more respectful nod, left.

 

Alone now, Onslaught pulled the datastick out and contemplated it as he sat back down. What could be on here that Reflector would consider good enough to bargain with? He plugged the datastick into the port on his arm. Giving it a thorough look for bugs or viruses, he let it download. Sitting up straighter in his seat as the videos contained on it played out, Onslaught smiled. Oh, yes, this could come in handy indeed. Reflector would be getting that favor after all.

 

 

-=-=-=-

 

Skywarp had yet another day with the Combaticons, continuing the inventory and reorganization they began yesterday. Still frustrated with Starscream, he'd been arguing since the previous day about the decision to _not_ fly to TC's rescue. He had only reluctantly agreed to Starscream's orders to _wait_ instead of flying to TC's rescue _now_. Today, Skywarp was regretting that decision. He was still sure they could have nabbed him. And he told Starscream so. Again. For the millionth time.

 

He got a blistering retort over the bond in reply that sent Skywarp's wings sweeping back and widened his optics. Okaaaay, maybe he'd pushed Screamer a bit too much today. When Starscream finally ended his mini rant, the trineleader growled out ~We're waiting for Ravage and TC to work it out, and that's final! If I hear another word about it in the next two solar cycles I'll rewire your thrusters so you can only fly aft-first! It won't be much longer until we get him back if you will _just stop bugging_ me so I can do what I need to!~

 

Realizing he needed to drop it, at least for now, Skywarp relented. ~If you say so Star,~ he sent petulantly, and closed the bond. Skywarp released a frustrated huff and refocused on his task, cataloging boxes of stuff. He huffed again, frowning into the box he was checking.

 

“Enjoying talking to your trine?” A dark voice purred into Skywarp's audial.

 

Whirling to face the mech who had snuck up on him, Skywarp growled at himself for letting his guard down. Bonus, it could be taken as a growl at the other mech. He growled louder when Vortex didn't back off, instead leaning closer. When the growl reached a snarl and claws flexed, Vortex flared his field in smug satisfaction and finally backed up.

 

Oh, Skywarp wanted to knock the smirk hidden behind that blastmask off that helicopter's face _so badly_ , but with the rest of the Combaticon gestalt in the room and Skywarp the one-mech-out, he just huffed and settled for glaring at the smug mech. Stepping to the side- not back, so it was totally not a retreat, though he didn't turn his back on the 'copter- Skywarp grabbed the next box they had to sort in the pile of junk in the unused hangar bay. Hard to use a hangar bay when it was under the ocean and they couldn't open it without flooding, so it had turned into a glorified storage room. “I don't know what you mean,” he grunted at the smirking gray 'copter. A glance in the box revealed this one held mostly small metal parts and equipment pieces, and he hefted it up to take to the pile of similar items already sorted along the wall.

 

“Oh, don't give me that. You Seekers always waggle your wings when you talk to each other, even when you're not in the same room. Dead give away,” Vortex said, waving a clawed hand about, as he walked next to Skywarp. He didn't just walk though, he matched Skywarp step for step and mimicking the Seeker, in the most prancing, mocking, annoying way possible. He even twitched his rotors in time to Skywarp's angry wing movements. “Come on, tell me! What's the gossip?”

 

It wasn't the first time. Vortex had done his little copy-mimic-game since the start of the shift each time Skywarp had carried a box over, and Skywarp definitely thought it was getting old. Skywarp bit back another growl. Pits, why did _he_ have to be the one paired up with Vortex? And for the second solar cycle in a row, too! Why couldn't he have been paired with Swindle, or Brawl even? Or Blast Off? The shuttle mech was an arrogant, aloof fragger, but at least he was easy to ignore. “None of your business,” he said through clenched denta, setting the box down.

 

“But I can make it my business,” Vortex said, voice low and mock-friendly. He retracted his face-mask so he could grin, flashing fangs, as Skywarp grumbled but ignored him. He leaned against the wall, watching the black and purple Seeker sort, examine, and toss pieces into marked bins.

 

“You could help, ya know,” Skywarp said, glancing up at Vortex with a frown.

 

“I am,” Vortex said cheerfully. He leaned down into Skywarp's space, into Skywarp's EM field, despite how close the jet had it pulled in. “I am helping by _not_ telling everyone about the cubes you've been passing to the Coneheads.”

 

Skywarp froze, field flaring alarm and panic before he pulled it in even farther. Armor clamped and his wings hiked up before he could stop the movement, so Skywarp changed it into a wing flare and fluffed out certain armor pieces to make it look like indignation rather than fear. “What are you talking about?” he asked, narrowing his optics at Vortex.

 

“Ah now, don't give me any of the 'I have no idea what you mean' slag,” Vortex mock scolded, shaking a finger at Skywarp. “Got video proof of it, courtesy of an interested mech. And I can tell you right now that Onslaught is also a _very_ interested mech. He'd very much like to know what is going on.”

 

Skywarp couldn't help looking over to the right where Onslaught and Blast Off were working on the other side of the room. Onslaught was staring back, arms crossed over his tan and teal chest, brow raised over his red visor. Blast Off leaned against the wall beside his leader, examining a scuff on his arm, looking bored and disgusted with everything as usual. But Skywarp could tell by the angle of the shuttle's brown and purple wings that Blast Off had all of his very powerful sensors locked on him.

 

Skywarp looked to the left at the other two Combaticons. Swindle stared back with wide purple optics and a smirk, arms crossed over yellow and purple plating, his fingers tapping on his arm. Brawl scowled, red visor narrowed, and shifted on big green peds, ready to barrel at the Seeker on command. Slowly Skywarp stood, taking a step back, and really took a look at his surroundings, dread starting to settle in his tank.

 

Slaggin' Pits, how had he let them surround him? Skywarp was stuck against the wall, farthest from the door, and painfully aware of Vortex standing right beside his wing. He could try to 'warp out, but Vortex was close enough to grab him before he disappeared. And he _really_ didn't want to be anywhere alone with Vortex. Not like he could pop in where there would be mechs to tattle, and Starscream was in the middle of the command deck. Plus, even he was smart enough to figure out that he needed to find out how much they knew and what they wanted, _fast_ , otherwise things could get bad in a hurry. On second thought, slag if Megatron noticed, he needed Screamer's help. ~Uh, Screamer, we have a problem,~ he sent even as he clicked his vocalizer nervously and asked, “So, uh, what do you mechs want?”

 

Onslaught ambled a little closer. “Funny how Starscream forgets about us, now that he can't use us. Here he is, sharing energon with rival Seekers and forgetting all about his one-time allies. Why, Vortex and Blast Off are even fliers, so surely the _Air Commander_ should be taking care of them! I figure he owes us, since he's neglected to remember us. Why, he even betrayed us, and left us to Megatron's tender mercies!”

 

“Hey! You can't blame Starscream for all of that!” Skywarp argued, wings going up in affront. “You're the one who tried to blow us all up, and got punished for it!”

 

“Only after Starscream failed to live up to what he promised us!” Onslaught said with a growl, as he and the others moved closer, boxing Skywarp in even further. “The way we see it, not only did Starscream fail to keep his end of the bargain, he betrayed us when he failed to stand up with us later.”

 

“He couldn't!” Skywarp protested weakly, while trying to sidle out of the circle of mechs. Vortex just snickered and moved with him. “He'd already been punished, and he couldn't do anything because Megatron had threatened his trine plus all the other fliers. Also, there are other issues that you don't know about...” Skywarp trailed off when he saw how Onslaught's visor narrowed.

 

“Ah yes, that reminds me of yet another issue I have with your trineleader,” Onslaught hissed. “After all, we wouldn't be be trapped here if it wasn't for the code he gave Megatron!”

 

“What?” Skywarp asked, confused, staring at the Combaticon leader with wide optics.

 

“The slave coding!” Onslaught snarled, a sound echoed by the others. “Megatron gloated to us after we awoke the second time, saying that we should thank Starscream for giving Shockwave his wonderful little code!”

 

“But...” Skywarp said softly, armor slicking tight with surprise and field buzzing with confusion. “But Starscream _hates_ slave coding. And he's never worked with Shockwave on coding! Not since they messed with-” Skywarp abruptly shut his mouth and looked away, hunching in on himself.

 

Onslaught's visor flashed and Vortex grabbed Skywarp's wings with brutal claws. Skywarp shrieked and struggled, but stilled when those hands only clenched harder, drawing energon and leaving deep punctures. He scrambled for his blaster, but Blast Off and Brawl lunged forward and grabbed his arms, effectively pinning him with their greater strength. Swindle stood nearby with a blaster in hand, a smirk on his face as he leveled it at Skywarp. Onslaught stepped forward, and a large black hand grabbed the Seeker's jaw, forcing him to look into Onslaught's face. “What was it they messed with, Seeker?” the blue mech snarled.

 

“I can't tell you,” Skywarp said, then gasped as hands squeezed his jaw and limbs painfully. “I can't! I really can't! It's protected under trine code! Blast Off can tell you, I'm not lying!” Skywarp frantically shouted for help down the trine bond, and he felt Starscream and Thundercracker's immediate response. He urgently explained everything to Starscream, even while he continued to babble excuses and explanations to the Combaticons. “He's my trinemate, leader, and Winglord, so my coding protects Starscream, and I can't tell you! Maybe if he gave me permission, but even then, if it was something you could use against him, it probably wouldn't let me!” Skywarp blurted.

 

“Then get permission,” Onslaught hissed, “Or I will let Vortex play with your wings.” Vortex giggled, and nuzzled the back of Skywarp's helm. Skywarp's vent hitched and his field skittered with fear and faint revulsion. He tried to move his head away from the nuzzles but Vortex pressed closer. Skywarp tensed further, as he sent the urgent question and request to Starscream.

 

::Onslaught,:: Starscream snarled into their comms, making Skywarp jump. Onslaught didn't jump, just quirked his lips in a satisfied smile. ::What do you think you are doing? How dare you threaten my trinemate!::

 

Onslaught merely raised a brow ridge at Skywarp while he answered the Air Commander. ::I am only asking questions, Starscream. And I want answers.::

 

::And why should I help you find these answers?:: Starscream sneered. The response Onslaught sent was a video and a image capture. The video was a montage of several of the energon exchanges with the Coneheads, and parts of their overheard conversations. The image was of Skywarp's current position, held between the gestalt members, wings bleeding from claws still hooked into them. Starscream's rage and fear burst over Skywarp over the bond before it was tamped down and controlled again. ::I see,:: Starscream seethed over the comms. ::And what exactly is it you are wanting to know?::

 

::I want to know why you aren't offering your dear friends, the Combaticons, any of that energon you seem to delight in sharing?:: Onslaught said with a light, mockingly playful tone dripping with smugness at knowing he had the tri-colored Seeker cornered. ::And your trinemate says that you might have the answer to another question of mine- What did you have to do with the coding that Megatron forced on us?:: Onslaught's voiced dropped out of the playfulness with each word of the second question until he snarled menacingly down the comms.

 

::To answer the first question- It just didn't occur to me. But if you would like to be included in our energon 'sharing', I will make arrangements,:: Starscream hissed. ::As for the second- I had _nothing_ to do with it! I was exiled to my quarters and stuck in my berth healing from the repairs I needed after Megatron's beating. I wasn't anywhere near when they did it, I wasn't told until afterward, and I _never_ mess around with that kind of coding!::

 

Onslaught paused a moment, surprised by the rather sincere sounding outrage and disgust in Starscream's comm voice. ::Then what did Megatron mean when he said you helped him, and what did Skywarp mean when he said you hadn't worked with Shockwave 'since they messed with...?':: he asked, suspicion in his voice as he trailed off in a not-so-subtle demand for more explaining.

 

Starscream snarled over the comms, obviously unhappy with the demand, but he still answered. ::Megatron meant he got the coding from modified examples of the Winglord's Oath code that my own systems are shackled with! And I haven't worked with Shockwave since he meddled with my own coding and made me almost as slaved to Megatron as you are!:: Starscream hissed. Skywarp could feel Starscream's anger and frustration beating over their bond, as well as a healthy amount of fear, wondering what the Combaticons would do with this information. Thundercracker joined Skywarp in trying to sooth Starscream, but they were just as worried.

 

Onslaught was more than a little surprised by that revelation, and cycled his visor through a reset, staring at Skywarp intently. “::You mean to say that the Winglord's Oath was slave coding, and that you let Megatron bind you to him with it?::” he asked, aloud and over comms, disbelief flavoring his tone and field. The disbelief soon twisted into wicked amusement and Onslaught laughed. Shaking his head, he released Skywarp's face and chuckled some more, while over comms he said ::I am surprised at you Starscream. I thought you were smarter than that.::

 

While Starscream seethed and sputtered over the comms, Onslaught waved a hand at his teammates, and they released Skywarp. Well, all except Vortex, who kept his claws in Skywarp's wings and was even leaning in to lick them until Blast Off cuffed him over the helm. Pouting, the 'copter let go, and stepped back. ::We'll talk more later, Starscream. Bring the energon, and we will... negotiate,:: Onslaught sent before cutting off the comm channel while Starscream was mid word.

 

Skywarp stood warily in the circle of mechs, wings twitching with pain, as Onslaught sent his parting words. “So... what do you want then?” he asked after a few kliks of listening to Onslaught chuckle while tapping his blast mask thoughtfully.

 

Looking up, Onslaught considered. Finally giving a decisive nod, Onslaught flicked his hands at his teammates, sending them back to their sorting. They grumbled but did so, though it took another punishing blow to get Vortex moving. Opticking the Seeker who warily watched him in return, Onslaught took a step closer. “For now, just include us in your energon sharing,” he said, looming over the jet who was trying to subtly lean away. “I will let your _Winglord_ know what else I want later,” Onslaught said with an emphasis on the Seeker's title.

 

“...Sure, Onslaught,” Skywarp said with a false wavering smile. Oh, he heard that stress on 'Winglord'. And he was certain that energon wasn't all that Onslaught would be asking for- probably as blackmail in return for keeping Starscream's secret. The big teal mech gave Skywarp one last baleful warning look, then turned away and went back to his own spot and resumed sorting goods. Skywarp released a shaky vent, wings still throbbing. He looked them over, but the damage wasn't anything that Starscream couldn't fix after his shift was over. He wasn't even bleeding anymore. Giving all the Combaticons one last wary look, he went back to his own sorting, Vortex thankfully no longer bothering him.

 

A pulse over the bond from Starscream and Thundercracker settled him even more, as he felt the support and appreciation and love from his trinemates. He could get through this shift. That's all he needed to do- get through this shift, and get to his quarters without garnering any more unwanted attention. Then he could let Starscream take care of it, and come up with a plan like he always did. And maybe if he asked sweetly after his wings were fixed Starscream would be willing to cuddle and comfort him a little before they went to recharge tonight.

 

 

-=-=-=-

 

 


	36. Remains of Ancient Fires

-=-=-=-

Bluestreak was concerned. Something didn't feel right. He'd felt off for over a week now, and he'd put it off as long as possible, but finally, he decided it was time to see Ratchet. It was Skyfire's day to talk to Thundercracker, so Bluestreak didn't have to worry about being on time to see the Seeker. True, he'd told his friends that he would meet up with them later, but they hadn't set a time. Beside, Sunstreaker had just come off patrol and would be in the washracks until he was gleaming and sparkling clean, and Hound and Bumblebee were in a meeting with Jazz that was running late. The only one who would be kept waiting was Sideswipe, and he was more than able to keep himself entertained until the rest of the group showed up. So Blue had plenty of time to have a quick check-up with Ratchet. He'd even waited for a day he knew the older medic was on shift.

 

Peeking into the med-bay revealed an empty room. There was noise coming from the supply room though. Walking over to the open door he peered inside. Looks like Ratchet was doing inventory or looking for something, if the boxes and bits scattered on the floor and work table were any indication. But he still couldn't see Ratchet. He must be further behind the shelves. “Hello?” he called, rather loudly. A loud clang and a curse had his doorwings hitching up, and he stepped into the room. Poking his head around the corner of the shelf, he saw Ratchet standing braced against the shelf, one leg bent so he could rub the tip of his ped where there was now a dent. At his feet was a large canister of some sort lying on it's side.

 

“Hello Bluestreak,” Ratchet said, wryly, setting his foot back down. “Need something? I take it scaring old medics into dropping things wasn't the main reason you came in here.”

 

Bluestreak meeped. “Sorry Ratchet! I really didn't mean to make you drop anything! I just need to talk to you, and I thought that you wouldn't be busy right now, since no one's been hurt in a while. Well, that I know of anyway. So I came by to ask you something because I've been feeling a little funny and it hasn't gone away and I wanted you to check it out please,” he rambled, hands clasped in front of him and doorwings twitching nervously low on his back.

 

Ratchet bent down and picked up the canister and set it on the shelf where it belonged while Bluestreak explained his reason for coming in. Frowning, he surveyed Bluestreak up and down, but couldn't see anything. Sighing he gestured towards the main medbay. “Well, kid, let's go take a look, since it's obviously bothering you enough that you came in.” Ratchet chuffed a small laugh. “Usually I have to bang you soldiers over the head to get you to come in for even just a check-up.”

 

Walking over to the nearest berth Ratchet patted the surface, and Bluestreak hopped up onto it. Leaving Bluestreak sitting there bright opticked for a moment, Ratchet went to the counter and grabbed a scanner. Coming back to Bluestreak's side he plugged him in and started a standard diagnostic scan. “Okay kid, while that is running, why don't you tell me what it is that is feeling 'funny' and how long it's been going on?”

 

Bluestreak fidgeted and looked at his hands as he fiddled his fingers. “Well, it hasn't been that long. Only about a week. I mean that isn't even quite half an orn! But it hasn't gone away. In fact I think it is getting worse. And you have always told us that if anything feels wrong with certain systems, especially your spark, that you're supposed to come in right away. So that's why I came, because my spark feels funny-”

 

“Your spark?” Ratchet asked sharply, cutting into the flow of words, optics widening in concern. “Yes you should come in right away! What have you been feeling? Twinges? Pain? Erratic pulses?” His hands flew over Bluestreak's hood and bumper, sensitive hands feeling for spark pulse and temperature variances, while his field pushed against Blue's feeling for any weak points or fluctuations in his EM field that would point to a weakening spark.

 

Bluestreak's optics widened at Ratchet's immediate concern. “No? No twinges or pain or funny pulses, I swear! It's something different. I keep getting … feelings. And sometimes a voice? Sorta murmuring. And I swear I hear it in my spark! And the harder I concentrate on it, the louder and the clearer it gets,” he said. Ratchet's hands froze on his hood. Glancing from Ratchet to his hands and back, he bit his lip. Finally, after several kliks of the medic staring at him in silence, he had to ask. “Can you accidentally bond someone?” he blurted out. “Because I've felt funny in my spark and I've been hearing things but only since I merged with Thundercracker and I'm scared that I accidentally bonded with him! I mean, is that possible? I've heard some mechs talk about accidents and.. and unlucky bondings before but I didn't know what they really meant. Did they mean an unintentional bond?”

 

Leaning back and removing his hands from Blue's plating, Ratchet narrowed his optics thoughtfully. “No. You can't accidentally bond someone. A bond is a very deliberate thing and requires all parties to be in agreement for one to form. Well, except in two specific cases,” he said. The scanner chose just then to beep it was done, so Ratchet turned to it, unplugging it and reading the results.

 

“They do? What are the two cases?” Bluestreak asked, both curious and full of trepidation.

 

“The only two kinds of temporary bonds,” Ratchet answered, setting the scanner down and crossing his arms, giving Bluestreak a pondering look. “Mate bonds, which are between two unbonded creators and only lasts until the newspark emerges. And creator-sparkling bonds. Those usually only last until adulthood, though some last longer, and others end sooner for a variety of reasons.”

 

“Wait, am I carrying?!” Bluestreak asked in alarm, doorwings jerking up as he looked at his own chest with comically wide optics.

 

“No! No Bluestreak, you are not carrying. The scanner would have picked that up, and it didn't find anything, so it's not that,” Ratchet said, patting the younger mech on his shoulder and sending a soothing pulse through his field. “Besides, you need to interface with an exchange of transfluid and spark merge for that. And you said that Thundercracker was your first merge. Have you let anyone touch your spark since that?” he asked. Bluestreak bit his lip and shook his head no. “Then it can't be a newspark. I... think it might be something else. Let me grab a different scanner.” Ratchet hurried over to a medical cabinet and grabbed a device, before coming back to Bluestreak's side. “Okay, this is going to pinch. It needs to get a sample of your nanites, and the quickest way to do that is to activate your repair nanites by giving you a small poke,” Ratchet explained as he clamped a part of it onto Bluetreak's finger.

 

The Praxian eyed the device, which he'd never seen before, curiously. “Why do you need- ow!” Bluestreak jumped as the hidden needle punctured his finger rather deeply. He gave Ratchet a little glare for that. _Pinch_ indeed. “Why do you need a sample of my repair nanites?” he asked again, watching as Ratchet took the device off his finger and slotted it into the scanner.

 

“So we can look at your CNA,” Ratchet said as the machine beeped. He took it over to a medical console in the wall and plugged it in. Tapping at the keys of the console for a minute, he waited as the results were searched. Sighing, he waved Bluestreak over.

 

“But why do you need my CNA? I mean, you already know who I am, and I am sure you already have it on record, anyway. So why did you need a new sample?” Bluestreak asked as he walked over to join Ratchet at the console.

 

“I needed a new sample so that I could compare it to another one, which was only recently added to our database. Just to be sure there wasn't any mistakes when I last updated your file,” the medic said. Sharp blue optics tracked anxiously twitching doorwings and overly bright optics. Poor kid was obviously nervous. Then again, the kid was smart, and had probably already figured out what Ratchet was getting around to saying, whether he wanted to or not. “Look kid, the only other type of bond it might be, if you have one, is creator-sparkling. I'm checking your CNA to the other mechs we have on board.”

 

“Are you sure it's a bond though?” Bluestreak asked a little anxiously. “I mean, is there any way to check that? I know that I kind of assumed that that is what it is, but shouldn't we check? Make sure it isn't something else?”

 

“Yeah, we can check,” Ratchet said. Unsubspacing a large, more powerful scanner- one that he used when there was spark trauma or a diagnosis was unclear on the smaller one- and hooking Bluestreak up, he set it to check for spark bonds, broken or otherwise, and type of bond. Sometimes an injured patient couldn't tell him if they were bonded or not after all, though he knew all the mechs that were bonded here on Earth. Well, the Autobots anyway.

 

“W-what does it say?” Bluestreak asked a few tense kliks later when it beeped.

 

Ratchet read the results and his lips quirked briefly. “Well, it looks like there _is_ a bond. And from what I can tell, it reads as a creator-sparkling type.”

 

Bluestreak just stared at Ratchet, wide opticked. Ratchet could teek the conflicted feelings coming off the poor mech. There was confusion, dread, hope, and resignation and other unidentifiable emotions all swirling about. Sighing, the medic gestured at the medical console which was now flashing. “It's what I expected, and somehow I think you suspected it too. I was checking to see if anyone in the database had similar, or partial CNA match to yours. Because a bond doesn't just spontaneously form- even mate bonds and sparkling bonds form only under certain circumstances and for a purpose. But one can _re_ -form spontaneously. A broken bond can reform if the sparks that made it are close enough, such as in merge.”

 

“So...” Bluestreak whispered, “so I have re-formed a bond with one of my creators?”

 

“Yes, Blue,” Ratchet said softly.

 

“It's Thundercracker isn't it?” Blue croaked out, voice still so soft. He finally looked at the console screen to see the results that Ratchet had found. There, in bold glyphs showed the match- Thundercracker and Bluestreak shared CNA. And now, a strengthening bond as well. “He's my sire isn't he?”

 

“Yes, he is Blue,” Ratchet said, hugging the quivering Praxian.

 

-=-=-=-

 

It took a while for a confused and conflicted Bluestreak to settle down and leave the medbay. Ratchet had comforted him, talked to him, explained things, and agreed that _no one_ needed to know about the bond with Thundercracker unless Bluestreak wanted them to know. Nor the fact they were kin. After all, he was legally now a full adult and as such had a right to decide who knew, even when it came to creators and commanding officers. And patient-doctor confidentiality covered the rest.

 

As for Thundercracker- well, that was a gray area, but legally no one had to tell him unless Bluestreak wanted him to know. After all Thundercracker, for all that he had a CNA match, was not listed as kin. Prowl was the only one filed as Bluestreak's kin, and until or unless Bluestreak desired differently, that was how it would remain.

 

Sitting at a mess hall table, late to meet his friends, Bluestreak's head buzzed and swam with thoughts. He didn't know what he wanted to do. The only thing he was sure of was that no matter what, Prowl would stay his creator, kin, adopted guardian. That was fact. But as for what he would do about Thundercracker, he didn't know... And would he tell anyone else aside from Prowl about it?

 

Sideswipe plopped into the chair next to him, startling him from his thoughts. “There you are Blue! Everyone was wondering where you had got off to. The rest of us all met up and already grabbed our cubes. We headed to me and Sunny's quarters, and when you didn't answer your pings I volunteered to come find you.” Sideswipe trailed off as he really looked at Bluestreak, noticing the dazed, upset look on his face. “Hey, what's wrong?” he asked field pushing out to better teek his friend.

 

Bluestreak blinked up at Sideswipe, then released a shuddery vent and sat up straighter. He pursed his lips and gave Sideswipe a considering look while he thought. Making up his mind stood up from the table and snatched Sideswipe's hand. “I'll tell you, but I want to tell all of you together. Everyone's in your quarters? Sunny, Hound, and Bee? No one else is there?” he asked as he dragged the red mech out of the mess hall.

 

“Yeah, just us,” Sideswipe said, brows raised in surprise. “Whoa there, baby Blue!” he exclaimed as he nearly tripped with Bluestreak still dragging him by the hand. “Slow down a bit there, no need to pull my arm off! We're not in a hurry... are we?”

 

Bluestreak glanced sheepishly back at Sideswipe and slowed down a little, though he kept a hold of his hand. “Sorry, I just want to get there. I have to tell you guys something and I want to get it over with before I change my mind or lose my nerve. It's kinda important, but it's also really private, and I want to tell someone, but not everyone. And with Prowl gone, you guys are the ones I trust to keep it secret and care and not judge, so...”

 

“I get it, Blue,” Sideswipe said, and squeezed his hand reassuringly. They arrived at the hab suite door just then and Sideswipe entered the code and let them in. Seated in the living room was everyone else, talking and sipping at energon cubes. They turned towards the door as it opened and greeted the two. Their faces went from joyful greeting to confused concern when they saw how worked up Bluestreak was.

 

“What's going on? Has something happened?” Bumblebee asked as he sat forward, field reaching out to teek.

 

“I dunno, but Blue here says he has something he needs to tell us,” Sideswipe said with a shrug, as he made his way over to his beanbag to flop onto it.

 

Bluestreak swallowed as he immediately became the center of intense focus. “Hey guys,” he said weakly as he gave an awkward little wave. Then he just stood there in unsure silence, shifting and shuffling his peds. Hound gave a little huff of fond exasperation and stood. He nudged Bluestreak's hip and guided him to the couch, then sat next to him. They were seated much like they had been last time Bluestreak revealed to them what was happening- Blue seated on the couch between Bee and Hound, Sunstreaker in his chair, and Sideswipe on his beanbag. The familiarity gave Bluestreak comfort, that and remembering the support and advice he got last time. Smiling gratefully at Hound he sighed, then began to talk.

 

“Okay, so some stuff has happened since the last time I asked you all for advice with the Thundercracker thing,” Bluestreak started. “And thanks for that, again. It did really help, what you suggested Sunstreaker, Bee. I learned stuff about Thundercracker and Praxus, and we learned some stuff about the Seekers. I know we haven't had much time to hang out since then, because of all the visits with Thundercracker being on my off-shift, and taking up the time I could spend with you guys. Well, that and how busy we've all been with all the extra patrols and stuff. Actually part of what I want to tell you guys is why we had all those patrols. Although I bet Bee knows, too, since he's probably heard a lot of it from Jazz. And maybe Hound. I mean, you are Spec Ops and scouts so-”

 

“Blue!” Bumblebee laughingly cut in. “Yes, we might know some of what's going on, but don't get distracted here! You were wanting to tell us something. Get your thought-threads in order, then say it.”

 

“Right,” Bluestreak ducked his head sheepishly. Lining up events and points in his mind, he started over. “Like I said, some stuff happened since we last really got to hang out. With Thundercracker I mean. That visit after our talk, I got Thundercracker to agree to let me talk to Prowl. He bargained for a flight in exchange, which you guys know about, since you had to help watch the perimeter while he was flying.” The others all nodded, when he looked up at them. “The tricky part was how that talk with Prowl was gonna happen. We wanted to just call him, or exchange messages, but Thundercracker nixxed that, all paranoid that we would find some way to figure out where Prowl was or pass secrets or something. Anyway, in the end, we all agreed, flight for Thundercracker in exchange for a privacy- meaning no officers besides Ratchet- while Thundercracker and I merged our sparks and he let me talk to Prowl through their trinebond and the mate-bond he has with Skywarp.”

 

The shocked, outraged exclamations from the others drowned out the next few words. Bumblebee and Hound went on for several kliks listing off risks. They seemed particularly appalled at 'the inappropriate use of sparks' and offended on Bluestreak's behalf. Sideswipe loudly proclaimed that Thundercracker got the better end of the deal and the rest agreed hotly. Sunstreaker immediately jumped on the point that he was alone in a room with Thundercracker while baring his spark and seemed ready to jump up at any moment to go after the Seeker himself. Bluestreak waited for them to calm down a little before talking again, but quickly realized they were working themselves up rather than calming down.

 

“Ratchet was there!” he shouted, making them pause in their protests for a moment. “Ratchet was there to monitor the whole thing. He kept a scan on us the whole time. I wasn't alone with Thundercracker. It was safe. Well, as safe as baring your spark to a mech you aren't sure you trust could be, I guess.” Bluestreak shrugged, and gave a half-hearted smile. “Apparently Vos and Praxus used to do merge-conversations like that a lot to solve problems. So, no, it wasn't anything weird or inappropriate, just _different_ than other city practices. And all the officers agreed that it was safe enough, and a good opportunity to get in contact with Prowl. I wasn't offended or hurt by any of it, and _I_ was the one who pushed for it in the beginning anyway- because I wanted to talk to Prowl so badly. It actually wasn't bad, and I got to talk to Prowl like I wanted, and I learned a few new things that I was able to tell the commanders. So it was worth it and it all worked out.” He shrugged again, but his optics drifted to his hands which were tangled in his lap, and his jumbled feelings began to seep into his field again.

 

Squinting his optics at Bluestreak, Sunstreaker leaned forward and spoke up. “If it was 'worth it' and it all 'worked out' then what is it that has you all nervous and twitchy and your field all tangled?” he asked pointedly, a hint of growl under his words.

 

“Yeah Blue,” Sideswipe said, crossing his arms as he finished his twin's thought “If it was all good, then why are you acting like you're about to tell us some bad news?”

 

“Because I-” Bluestreak started, then stopped and reset his vocalizer to clear the static. “I do have some news. But I'm not sure if it is bad? I just don't know what to do about it...”

 

“Then tell us and let us help you figure it out,” Hound said, brushing a hand down Bluestreak's arm. “That is, if you want to. I guess that's what you were getting around to telling us before we went off road with all the shouting?”

 

“Yeah,” Bluestreak said quietly. He took a deep in-vent and sat up straighter. He decided to pick up the conversation where he left off. It was easier for him to remember to keep things in order and not get sidetracked again if he did that. Especially since he was still so conflicted about it. “Yeah, so, anyway. So Thundercracker and I merged. I talked to Prowl. Then we had to finish because the charge got too high and we... well, we overloaded,” Bluestreak said with a hint of a coolant flush.

 

“Oh yeah, spark merges definitely get the charge flowing,” Sideswipe said with a smirk, nudging Bluestreak's knee with a ped.

 

“I found that out,” Bluestreak muttered with a deeper flush, definitely embarrassed now.

 

Bumblebee jolted, and stared at Bluestreak. “Wait, do you mean that was your first merge?” he asked, putting a hand on Bluestreak's arm.

 

“Yes?” Bluestreak said, a questioning lilt in his voice, as he wondered why Bee seemed to be so concerned about that point.

 

“Ah, Blue, you shouldn't've had to share your first merge for something like that!” Sideswipe exclaimed, sitting up in his beanbag chair and reaching for Bluestreak's knee, placing his hand on it. “Mech, you should have come to one of us and let us show you what it's supposed to be like!” Sunstreaker nodded in agreement with his twin, field reaching out to Blue.

 

Hound nodded also. “What Sideswipe said. Blue, you could have asked any of us to share that with you, to make sure it was something good and joyful.” He squeezed Bluestreak's forearm and bumped his shoulder against the Praxian's.

 

Bumblebee, who was wrapped around Bluestreak's other arm hugging it, quietly stated how happy he would have been to teach Bluestreak that particular pleasure. The others murmured agreement and their fields wrapped Bluestreak up in _sincerity-comfort-affection_.

 

“Thanks,” Bluestreak said, a smile on his face. “That means a lot mechs, really. And I know I could have- _should_ have even- but I was really nervous and then I couldn't decide who I would ask, and then when I finally made up my mind to just ask all of you, so we could talk it out and decide together it was too late, and I had to go to the meeting room with Ratchet. So... well, it worked out. Not like it was a pleasure merge after all, so I'm not sure that a regular merge would have been exactly the same? I mean, we were trying _not_ to overload, really. I kinda wish I had made up my mind earlier, but Thundercracker was still a good teacher. He told me it would have been better with someone I liked, but it was still good.”

 

They all sat quietly for a moment, basking in each other's warm fields and comforting touches before Bluestreak took up his exposition again. “... Well, anyway. That happened, I debriefed with the officers, and Thundercracker got his flying time. Only... only I had started to feel funny. And it got stronger, more noticeable every time I went to talk to Thundercracker. I finally went to Ratchet about it just a little while ago.”

 

“Wait, what do you mean you've been feeling 'funny'?” Bumblebee asked. “Funny how? You went to Ratchet already?”

 

“Funny here, in my spark,” Bluestreak said and thumped his hood with a fist. When the others exclaimed in concern, he shook his head and raised his hands. “No! Nothing's wrong, well, not really. And yeah, I went to Ratchet because I was worried too. But I'm fine. I am perfectly healthy, and there is nothing wrong with my spark. I just... I sorta have... um, I mean it turns out that...”

 

When he trailed off again, and just sat there twiddling his fingers and twitching his doorwings anxiously, Sideswipe narrowed his optics and went back over what Blue had been saying. Optics suddenly popping wide he blurted out “Holy Primus, you didn't kindle with Thundercracker did you?”

 

Bluestreak's head whipped up and he gaped at Sideswipe. “What? No! It isn't a sparkling. Okay, I admit I kinda wondered that myself for a bit, but nope. But... it is a bond. With Thundercracker. Because-” Bluestreak took a big in-vent then blurted out the rest in a rush just to get through saying it “- because Thundercracker is my sire and our creator-sparkling bond reactivated because of the merge and Ratchet confirmed it through CNA samples!”

 

Stunned silence lasted for all of a klik, then the questions started.

 

“How?” Sunstreaker demanded. “I thought he said his creation died.”

 

“Are you sure?” Hound asked. “It can't be a mistake?”

 

“But wouldn't you remember your sire?” Bumblebee asked. “How come you didn't recognize him?”

 

“For that matter,” Sideswipe added, “How come he never recognized _you_?”

 

A few more questions tumbled out, and Bluestreak tried to answer. Finally he just shouted. “Stop!” When they stopped talking he started to answer the questions he remembered. “Okay, he thought his creation died because the sparkling bond snapped. That was a reasonable conclusion, especially when he got to Praxus and saw that where his mate and sparkling lived had been worse than flattened. Yes, we are sure, Ratchet ran several tests to confirm, and matched up our CNA. As for remembering... I was really really young when my sire had to leave. I have memory files, but they've been corrupted because of what's happened since, or they weren't archived properly to begin with, I don't know. My carrier told be about him, but never said much other than he was a flier and was fighting, but that he'd be back soon- at least that I can remember. I was still really young when Praxus fell.” Bluestreak closed his optics and went through a steadying vent cycle to push away the pain that mentioning Praxus always brought. “Ratchet said it was shock that broke the bond. And since we never met when I was young and the break fresh, it never reformed. As for why he didn't recognize me...” Bluestreak looked down at himself, and ran a hand thoughtfully over his chestplates and thighs. “I don't look the same. And he had no reason to think his sparkling was alive, so why would he think it was me?”

 

Sideswipe tilted his head with a frown. “What do you mean, you don't look the same? Different how? Like, that you grew up? Because mech, we don't change _that_ much from our sparkling looks. And you don't have any weird upgrades or armor mods or anything.”

 

“No it's not that really. Actually, I was told I couldn't have many upgrades because of my age and stress related things. I asked one time, when I wanted to look more like Jazz when I was little.” Bluestreak grinned at the memory. “But I meant my colors. For one, I changed my optics to blue when I began training as an Autobot. They were gold before, but I wanted to be like Prowl and everyone else. And my plating colors are different. They aren't the same as they used to be.”

 

“Really?” Sunstreaker asked, surprised, interest lighting up his optics. “Then what were they and why did you change them? I don't remember ever seeing you in any colors but these.” He frowned in thought. “ In fact, I don't think I've ever seen you change your colors at all, even temporarily like most mechs do.”

 

“I've tried to change my colors before. It never works,” Bluestreak answered with a sigh. “I asked Ratchet a long time ago about it. He said that the trauma at a young age and nearly dying affected my chroma-nanites and changed them. Or corrupted them, I forget what he said. It's a rare side effect. Anyway, now they aggressively override even temporary paint and within a joor I'm back to these colors.” He spread his hands and gestured at himself. “As for what colors I used to be...” He touched the gray on his hood. “This used to be a fairly dark purple, just like my carrier's, and my gold optics were like his.” He tapped a black portion of his plates. “This was a nice dark navy. Carrier said it was darker than my sire's but the same shade. More like one of his creator's colors. My red parts have always been red. I guess that color wasn't affected for some reason.” He shrugged. “I asked Ratchet if he could fix them when I was still a bitlet, but there isn't anything he can do, although oddly enough the chroma-nanites still _read_ as the correct colors- they just don't display the right ones. I can tell you what the color code for them is if you're curious,” he offered.

 

Sunstreaker shrugged but nodded and made a 'give me' gesture with his hand, so Blue rattled off the numbers. He stood up and grabbed one of the larger than usual datapads laying about and sat back down. Bluestreak looked on in curiosity as Sunny began to do something on the screen, but he couldn't see it.

 

“So what are you going to do now?” Hound asked, distracting Bluestreak from trying to see what Sunstreaker was up to. “You told _us_ , are you going to tell anyone else?”

 

“I... don't know. Aside from Prowl and you guys, I don't know if I _want_ anyone else to know,” Bluestreak said, optics down in thought. “And you won't tell anyone else right?” He said, looking up at each of them. “Not until I say you can, right?”

 

“Of course, baby Blue! This is your personal info here, and it's totally your call on who gets to know and when. I ain't going to say anything. Promise.” Sideswipe said, and the others nodded and agreed.

 

“I am curious though,” Bumblebee said after a few kliks of amiable quiet, “If you are thinking of letting Thundercracker know? And what kind of changes that might mean if you do.”

 

“What do you mean, Bee?” Blue asked. “And I don't know yet if I am going to tell him. It's not like our conversations are completely private, and I don't know yet if I even want the other officers besides Ratchet to know. But what do you mean by changes?”

 

“Well, one of the reasons you are talking to him is to get him to see you as a creation, so that you are on the side of his coding that we need you to be,” Bee said slowly. “So obviously actually _being_ his creation would do that wouldn't it?”

 

“I- well, yeah I suppose,” Blue said, with a shutter blink. “But I still don't like Seekers. And I'm not sure I really trust him yet. And I am still really mad at Skywarp. ...I don't know what I want to do about all this yet. ...And there's the bond...” Bluestreak's doorwings began to tremble in distress. “I keep hearing things and feeling things in my spark that aren't mine and it's weird and invasive and I don't know how to stop it! Besides that, Thundercracker knows more about bonds than I do, what if he learns about it then uses it to get at what I know and uses the info to hurt someone or something?! It gets stronger every time I go to talk with him, and I don't know if I can hide it from him even if I wanted to now.”

 

“Whoa there, Blue,” Sideswipe said, crawling out of his beanbag to sit in front of Bluestreak and rub Blue's hands between his own. “Yeah, you've a lot of good points there, and it's a good thing you've thought of them. _But_ you can't get all glitched out about it. You just need some pointers on how to manage a bond- me and Sunny can do that, we've certainly had enough experience.” Sunstreaker snorted in agreement from his chair, still bent over the datapad he was using. “As for the other things, your opinions might change, or he might prove he's not such a slagger after all. And you don't have to ever tell him or anyone else, despite it maybe helping a current mission or whatever. You just have to think things through and look at all the pros and cons. Have you even really had time to get all your processor around this and all your thought threads in order?” he asked sympathetically.

 

Bluestreak sighed, his rising anxiety starting to taper off with the supporting fields of his friends and the valid points that Sideswipe made. “No, not really. I had just got done talking to Ratchet when you found me, and I had just found out. So no, I haven't had a chance to think about things yet.”

 

“Do that then, before anything else,” Hound suggested, leaning companionably against Blue and patting his knee. “Even ask for a solar cycle off if you have to, to get things clear in your mind. And you can always talk to us too, you know.”

 

“Thanks Hound. Thank you, mechs,” Bluestreak said, leaning back against Hound and bumped his forehelm against Hound's. He shifted his grip on Sideswipe's hands and brought them up for a brief nuzzle. Bee pouted until he got a nuzzle too, and Blue laughed as he did so.

 

“Well, if that's all settled,” Sunstreaker said, as he stood from his chair and took a couple steps towards the group cuddle, “Here.” He thrust the datapad at Bluestreak.

 

Bluestreak blinked, and released Sideswipe's hands to take the datapad. On it was a drawing, of him, in his original colors and optics, but as he'd look now as an adult. “Wow...” Bluestreak whispered. “Sunny this is amazing. Do I really look like that? Oh, gears, I wish my colors worked right, they look so nice. So much better than plain old gray and black...”

 

Sunstreaker just shrugged, though his field betrayed how pleased he was with Bluestreak's reaction and how the others exclaimed over the drawing as well. “Nothing wrong with gray and black, Blue. Makes the red stand out more. Just means you don't have to worry about matching your paintjob, or clashing, like some mechs.” He swept his optics up and down Bluestreak's frame. “It might not be flashy but I think I prefer you just the way you are.”

 

Bluestreak flushed at the compliment. “Thanks, Sunstreaker,” he said, still looking at the picture.

 

They talked a little bit longer. Bluestreak copied the picture over to a datapad of his own, and handed Sunstreaker back the larger one. Sideswipe repeated his offer to help Blue learn how to control the fledgling bond, and they agreed on a time to try. After that, they all seemed to decide as one to change topics and spent the rest of their off shift chatting and gossiping and playing games, and didn't talk about Bluestreak's revelations any more. They finished up their energon, and Bluestreak finally got a cube of his own, now that his mind and tank had settled enough for the refuel notifications to register. But there was no more mention of Blue's bond, or Thundercracker. Just warm smiles and relaxing fun. Blue was thankful, and grateful, and spent the rest of the solar cycle happily with his awesome friends.

 

-=-=-=-

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My notes for this chapter were:  
> (check up with Ratchet. Long awaited[and slightly obvious] reveal. Blue goes to friends in confusion and distress. No one tells TC anything, yet again.)
> 
> XD


	37. Fiery Confrontations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So, yeah I know it took me a while to get this chapter out. I decided to do 'Inktober' and that kinda took over all my creative time in October. And then when that ended I had the hardest time getting back into the swing of writing. Didn't help that these scenes kept fighting me.  
> ANyway.  
> Here's the next bit, and I am back on track mostly, so regular updates should continue (with a brief pause around Christmas while I visit family)  
> ^_^ 11-21-16

-=-=-=-

 

Thundercracker awaited Ravage. The night cycle had fallen and the sounds of the Ark had quieted. He knew that Ravage would make his way to his cell sometime this night, but there was no set time, as the cassette still had to navigate the security of the Ark. The breems crawled past, and Thundercracker just about decided to give up and go into recharge when he heard a soft sound.

 

The sound was a vent cover being moved. Ravage leapt down from the small opening near the ceiling of the cell and nodded at Thundercracker. When Thundercracker sat up and gestured to the berth, Ravage padded over and jumped up on it to sit next to the Seeker. They traded wrist cables and linked up. =Greetings, Thundercracker,= Ravage said after virtual handshakes had been exchanged. =Ready to plan out your escape?=

 

=More than ready,= Thundercracker replied. =While this hasn't been the worst imprisonment I've faced, I can't say it's been entirely comfortable. And I want to be back with my trine.=

 

=Of course. Although you might not be able to go back to the Nemesis right away,= Ravage cautioned. =Megatron is not exactly pleased with Seekers, and Starscream in particular, right now.=

 

=Not much different than usual then,= Thundercracker scoffed.

 

=Hm. True, but it is the _degree_ of displeasure he's been showing. You might want to go elsewhere for a while, like that little sanctuary your trine has set up,= Ravage advised, politely ignoring the startlement from TC at the mention of their, supposedly, secret refuge. =Soundwave helps to keep it off the scanner, so to speak,= he offered by way of explanation. =The jammer you have works extremely well, but where do you think Starscream got it to begin with?=

 

Thundercracker acknowledged that ruefully. He wondered if his trineleader was aware of how _much_ Soundwave knew. =I wondered if he had 'borrowed' it from Soundwave. But why would Soundwave keep our refuge a secret? Surely he would have told Megatron about it? Your Host and our trine have never exactly been friendly.= He paused as another thought occurred to him. =For that matter, I have been wondering what reason Soundwave has for helping Starscream to free me. Surely Soundwave doesn't consider me important enough to bother rescuing, or risking his cassettes for, if it were up to him.= Raising a brow ridge, Thundercracker looked at Ravage, almost daring him to refute the statement.

 

=Well, obviously that's where the bargain comes in,= Ravage stated. When Thundercracker pulsed confusion over the hardline, Ravage blinked at him in puzzlement, then his optics went wide. =Pits, you mean they haven't even told you? Soundwave is helping you because he and Starscream made a deal. And because Soundwave is... currently disenchanted with Megatron. But your trinemates didn't tell you what the deal was?= he asked incredulously. Shaking his head, Ravage made a show of pulling in air through his olfactory vents, sniffing at Thundercracker. =They really should have, especially considering how you smell, and what we found out about the Autobots' energon. Because you're the one most likely going to be the dealing with the results of the bargain, now.=

 

Thundercracker narrowed his optics and leaned towards the smaller mech, lip lifted in a snarl and his engines growling angrily. Quietly so as not to attract attention from the Autobot on duty just around the corner, but still loud enough to get his point across. =Explain, _now_. What do you mean about the energon, and what in Primus' name is this 'bargain' that you keep mentioning?=

 

Ravage twitched his tail, but otherwise didn't react, just stared back at the Seeker. =Your trinemates really should have told you, but I guess that's fallen to me.= The cougarraider looked away with a gusty ex-vent, fluffed and resettled his plating, and began to explain. =In exchange for staying silent about your island and the Autobot SIC stuck there- yes Soundwave knows about that also- with the addition of our assistance in freeing you, he and Starscream struck a deal. In return for Soundwave's help, next time one of your trine goes into heat, they would kindle with Soundwave and carry a sparkling for him.=

 

Thundercracker's shock at the fact Soundwave knew their secrets morphed into righteous anger as Ravage finished his statement. =He what?! How dare Soundwave ask for such a thing! Sparklings aren't bargaining chips! And how dare Starscream agree to it!= he snarled internally, denta bared in anger. =Oh, my trineleader is going to have some explaining to do. Why didn't he tell me?= Along side the anger in his teek a curl of hurt and confusion started to creep in.

 

=I don't know about Starscream, but Soundwave has always wanted a sparkling, and likely just grabbed at the chance,= Ravage shrugged. Then after a moment's thought he offered up a reasonable bit of explanation as comfort- he'd always rather liked the quiet blue Seeker, and wanted to ease the hurt he could sense. =But knowing your trineleader, he was probably hoping to get out of the deal. I know he's been trying his hardest to find a way to free you himself. Which would technically void the agreement.=

 

Rueful agreement seeped across the connection. =Yes, I can see Starscream trying to outfly the consequences of such a deal. … And I can see him avoiding telling me for similar reasons. After all, why trouble me with it if he can null the contract before we have to pay up?= Thundercracker's face lost it's snarl, but the wry quirk to his lips certainly wasn't any happier. His optics refocused on Ravage, and he pointedly asked, =And what was the other thing you mentioned? The Autobot's energon?=

 

Ravage offered up a file instead of speaking. Thundercracker accepted it, and Ravage could tell when the Seeker had downloaded it, because his EM field rippled with shock. =They fueled you with the geothermal energon they produce from the magma, then?= he asked in confirmation.

 

=Yes,= Thundercracker said, teek muted still from the shock but beginning to pick up streaks of panic and fear. =You said 'how I smell'- you think I am going into heat? Does Starscream know about this?=

 

Leaning in, Ravage took another deep sniff. =It's very faint, but yes, I think so. I suspect you'll feel the first effects in the next couple solar cycles. And yes, Starscream knows, but he only just found out as well. I found the Autobot's research on the day of your flight and Soundwave told him then.=

 

Hunching slightly, Thundercracker clamped his plating close. Letting out a shuddering ex-vent, he said, = Then Starscream still should have told me immediately, as soon as he found out. As for the heat, it's a good thing we already have my escape planned. I don't want to be trapped here when it really starts. And good thing we have our refuge, because I won't want to be going anywhere _near_ the Nemesis now.= He and Ravage shared a grimace at the thought of what would happen if he did- memories of past heat addled mechs being passed around flickered over the connection. And if they kindled from it, the pain afterward... well, Thundercracker would be wise to stay away.

 

=Other than Soundwave, it is still safe? No one knows about our island?= Thundercracker asked, watching Ravage closely and feeling over their interface carefully to gauge the cassette's response for veracity. The need for that safe haven was even more critical now.

 

Letting Thundercracker in just a little deeper into his processor so that he could see and pulsing sincerity and truth through his field, Ravage nodded. =As far as I know,= he said. =Unless one of your trinemates let it slip, only Soundwave and I know. And he's been keeping it secret- he's even been helping to misdirect the Autobots who are beginning to look in that direction. Their SkySpy and that little green shuttle of theirs have been looking, but Soundwave has been bouncing their signals and sensor readings around as best he can. It will keep them away for a little while longer, but you might need to let the Autobot go soon, if you want your island to remain a secret.=

 

Thundercracker was already shaking his head. =Skywarp would never allow it, and our trine protocols would rebel as well. Logically, I know Prowl would be safe here, but coding doesn't care about that as long as the Autobots are our trine's enemies. And the newspark still needs merges, at least for a little while yet.=

 

Ravage made a delicate and somewhat embarrassed click of his vocalizer, hesitated for a klik, but decided to push the issue anyway. =Yes, Skywarp's sparkling. There is that. And whatever sparkling _you_ might have now, I suppose. You _do_ realize that if we free you, Soundwave will expect the bargain to be fulfilled, and that you are the one likely to have to go through with it, since your heat is starting? But you also can't wait for a rescue from someone else, with a heat cycle coming on. The next raid is in a few solar cycles- that is our best chance to get you out of here, while all the Autobots are distracted and away.= Ravage teeked somewhat apologetic but his mindvoice was full of practicality and determination. =And even if I disagree with how Soundwave went about it, I will support his claim.=

 

Thundercracker growled and huffed but sent reluctant agreement, as he conceded that Ravage was correct. About the time limit and lack of other rescue options anyway. He couldn't wait for another later raid, which might not come for weeks, maybe not even before he hit the peak of the cycle. Bargain or not, Soundwave's plan was his best bet for getting out of here. =I will be having a talk with Soundwave too, then,= Thundercracker sighed. =After I give Starscream a new exhaust port.=

 

They finalized the last few details, and Ravage left. Thundercracker offered to lift him up to the vent, but the sleek little black cat declined and used his magnets to cling to the wall after jumping up to the vent. If he made a show of it by jumping as high as he could before looking over his shoulder and disappearing into the vents, Ravage will never tell.

 

Looking at the vent as the grate went back into place, Thundercracker settled down onto the thin brig berth. He had a few things to think about, and a couple of trinemates to scold. But that could wait until in the morning. Right now, TC would manually shut down all the jumbled thought-threads in his head, go to recharge, and let defrag sort out all his racing thoughts and feelings. Then he'd see what excuses Starscream and Skywarp came up with after he had his own thoughts in order. In the morning.

 

-=-=-=-

 

Starscream came out of recharge early to annoying and persistent pulses over their trinebond. For a moment he thought about just closing off the bond and rolling back over into recharge, but it was from Thundercracker and there was an underlying urgency to the grumbling that had him grudgingly opening the bond and responding. ~Thundercracker, what is it? Don't you know how early it is? I need my recharge to deal with all the slag going on over here.~

 

~It's even earlier for me so put a clamp on it.~ Thundercracker snapped. ~ And if you ever bothered to tell me _important things involving our trine_ then maybe you would have less to worry about and I wouldn't have to disturb your oh-so-needed recharge!~

 

The snarl in the mind voice and the anger and hurt flicking down the bond had Starscream sitting up and frowning. ~What do you mean?~ he asked warily even as his wings sank behind him with chagrin as he deduced what this was about.

 

Sure enough, Thundercracker yelled ~About the Pit damned slagging deal you made with Soundwave, you fragger! First, how _dare_ you not include me in that kind of trine affecting discussion! Second, how dare the both of you use sparklings as bargaining chips! Starscream, you know better!~

 

~I know!~ Starscream yelled back, frustration and anger at himself making his voice harsher than he meant. ~ I know, TC,~ he continued, softer and with real regret flowing with his words. ~I know I should have told you, but at the time you were still offline and captured. I should have told you when you woke, but I thought it would be better to spare you the worry. Especially with the Autobots interrogating you. Then... I guess I just thought I could work a way out of it. And I never intended for any sparkling to actually become part of the deal. Mostly I agreed because I needed the help, and to buy Soundwave's silence. I honestly thought that I could find a way to get you free myself, so we could back out of the deal.~

 

The regret and self-flagellation coming from Starscream tempered some of Thundercracker's anger. It was as he and Ravage had speculated. Well, he couldn't fault his trineleader's intentions, just his lack of forethought and execution of his plan. ~You still should have let me in on the decision, maybe even tried to put the old boombox in a holding pattern until I was awake and could talk it out also. If nothing else, I might have been able to help you negotiate for more time. As it is, your deal has become _my_ problem,~ Thundercracker scolded.

 

~What do you mean?~ Starscream asked warily.

 

~I mean, _Screamer_ \- ~ Starscream winced, TC only called him that when he was particularly annoyed or angry with him ~-That since the Autobots have been feeding me their energon, I am now starting a heat cycle. Soon. As in within a couple solar cycles. And because of your deal and Soundwave's help with my upcoming escape, it will be me who's going to end up kindling with the mech unless we can talk a way out of it,~ TC said pointedly with a growl.

 

~A heat? Pits! Unicron take it!~ Starscream cursed as he racked his processors. ~The raid isn't for another five or six solar cycles. Are you sure the heat will start before then?~ he asked. An affirmative answered. Cursing again, Starscream got up and began pacing beside his berth. ~These Earth mineral, energon induced heats are more potent than normal ones according to the research from those incompetent groundpounders. Do you think you will be able to hide the effects until the raid day?~ he asked, genuinely disturbed by the idea of a trinemate in such a vulnerable state while in enemy hands.

 

~I don't know,~ Thundercracker replied, just as uneasy with the idea. ~It's hard to suppress a normal heat's indicators. And their medic makes a point of scanning me regularly, at least once a 'week'.~ Thundercracker mulled that over in his processor for a moment. ~Come to think of it, Ratchet's taken to scanning me even more frequently lately. I think they already know or suspect that I might be near one.~

 

~I wouldn't be surprised,~ Starscream spat. ~They are more willing to be treacherous than they want you to believe, those Autobots. And Prime's creed of 'freedom is the right of all sentient beings' seems to apply only if you aren't a Decepticon. If they haven't told you yet, then I doubt they intend to tell you at all. Did they even bother to try changing your fuel?~

 

~Yeah, they started giving me solar instead of geothermal,~ Thundercracker said, ~But the research that Ravage passed to me says that is too little too, late. They have all their scientists working on it, but no way to stop the reaction has been found, nor a way to prevent it. And regular heat preventatives don't work.~

 

~I know that,~ Starscream said impatiently, then winced when a wave of hurt and fury poured over the bond.

 

~Ah, yes, you knew that as well, didn't you?~ Thundercracker snarled, low and dangerous. ~Ravage said you knew, that you found out the day of my flight. How long have you _really_ known? Or was this something else that even I, your trinemate, am not privileged enough to know _even when it affects me most_!~

 

Starscream winced again and stopped pacing, and even though TC was not physically near, he hunched defensively, wings lowered apologetically and arms crossed. ~... Not that long,~ he finally replied, voice defensive. ~Only a few solar cycles. I only found out when Soundwave passed it on, which- as Ravage said- was right after your flight! And I didn't tell you right then because you were tired and being watched ...and I didn't want to ruin your happiness from the flight.~

 

Unappeased, TC growled. ~You mean you could have warned me at anytime over the last several solar cycles and you still didn't bother to tell me?~ he asked, hissed almost, furious. Starscream hunched further and tried sending waves of apology and contriteness, but TC pushed them aside. He was not letting Starscream get away with just a pretty apology. ~You know what? Don't bother. I obviously rank lower in your esteem than I thought. I will deal with you when I am free. And I will then have Soundwave meet with me at the refuge. I want to talk to him myself, since I obviously can't rely on you to pass on important facts!~ Done with his trineleader, he slammed the bond closed.

 

Swaying from the abrupt closure, Starscream reached for his berth and sat down. He felt cautiously along the wall that TC had put up in their bond, dismayed to find it was a complete block. No feelings, sensations, nothing, not even the sense that TC was still there. For a moment Starscream panicked and threw himself at the blockage, beating at it, trying to find a crack. Frantically he tore at it, trying to get the sense of his trinemate back, terrified of losing TC. But the block held, and all he succeeded in doing was alarm Skywarp, who was sending his own pulses along their bond. He came to himself a few kliks later panting, ventilations cycling too fast to do any good and making him heat up, hands clawing at the air in front of himself like he was actually trying to tear something down. Taking a shaky slow in-vent, Starscream tried to send a pulse and flinched when it rebounded back at him.

 

Skywarp flashed into being next to him a moment later. “Star! What's happened?! What's wrong?” He asked, stepping close to Starscream and running his hands and optics over him, looking for something wrong. Over their bond he sent pulses of worry and confusion, and smothered him in his EM field, which plucked and pressed at his, looking for explanations there as well.

 

“Aren't you supposed to be on monitor duty?” Starscream asked weakly, trying to avoid answering, while also batting half-heartedly at Skywarp's hands.

 

“I snagged Rumble. He was in there talking to Frenzy who is on shift too, and I told him I'd owe him one if he'd watch the monitors for a bit,” Skywarp said, and tugged on Starscream's arm. “Come on, tell me what's happened. You feel all weird and TC is totally furious.”

 

“You can still feel Thundercracker?” Starscream asked eagerly, hopefully, looking up at Skywarp.

 

“Um, yeah, of course. Why?” Skywarp asked confused, and sending questioning pulses at TC. He flinched at the storm of anger and hurt that came from TC along with a short terse explanation, but only sighed and drooped his wings when he heard the reason. He gave Starscream a rueful admonishing look while he sent agreement and apology to TC. He'd _told_ Star that TC needed to know. And now he was sorry he'd followed orders and kept quiet. TC still roiled with hurt and anger, but there was a tiny thread of forgiveness for Skywarp, an acknowledgment that it wasn't 'Warp's choice to keep TC in the dark. Still, TC closed the bond a klik later, though not as thoroughly as he had done with Starscream.

 

“I told you we should have let him know. TC's _really_ angry, Screamer,” he scolded, and was surprised to see Starscream shrink away from him and bury his face in his hands. His optics flew wide as a tiny keen came from his huddled trineleader. “Whoa, Star, it's not that bad. I mean, yeah he's angry, maybe angrier than we've ever seen him before, but that's all. He'll forgive us after a while.”

 

“He cut me off completely, 'Warp,” Starscream keened. “I can't even tell if he's still there. For all I know, he's broken the bond on his side!”

 

“He wouldn't do that, Star!” Skywarp exclaimed, and sat next to Starscream, wrapping his arms around him. He threw his bond and field open to Starscream, letting his trineleader burrow into his presence as he burrowed into his arms. “He is super unhappy, yeah, but I felt no intentions from him that he was thinking of breaking the bonds.” Skywarp had never seen his trineleader like this; Starscream just didn't break down. Blow up, rant, rave, seethe and plot, sure, but not this shivering, quiet, unhappy thing. Starscream's usual reactions to things he couldn't control, or to being unsettled and hurt, was anger and spite. To see Starscream like this worried Skywarp more than he expected. Maybe things had been harder on his trineleader than he realized lately.

 

Starscream, for his part, was just trying to vent through this little break down and get his widely flaring field and emotions under control. Okay, so maybe he was clutching at Skywarp with hands, field, and spark, but that was fine. That was what trinemates were for, to hold onto and to hold you up when you need it. But he could admit, if only to himself, that losing his trinemates was his one great fear- he had been trine with them since early in the war, when he was still fairly young, and had been with them longer than he had been on his own. He didn't know _how_ to be alone anymore. Trinemates were more important than anything, even mates. After all, trine was forever, while mates came and went. Well, not _all_ mates, not _sparkbonded_ mates, but in general they were temporary. Trine was for life. (Even the time he'd had with Skyfire seemed far away and insignificant in comparison to the amount of time he was trined, though he still missed the shuttle terribly, loved him even, and would gladly have him back. If only it weren't for the war and their factions.) But his trine- He wasn't sure what he would do without them. _If_ he could do without them.

 

Slowly Starscream settled, listening to the murmurs from Skywarp. The still wall from TC's side of the bond was still disturbing, but it no longer made Starscream panic. Reluctantly he pulled out of Skywarp's arms and stood. Pulling Skywarp up also, he kissed that pale worried face. “Thank you Skywarp, but you should get back to your shift,” he said, with a weak smile and a pulse of gratitude. “We really don't want to owe Soundwave and his brats anything more than we already do.”

 

Skywarp looked at him skeptically. “Are you sure Star? I can totally stay here for a little bit longer. You aren't scheduled for anything for another groon. I'll stay with you if you want. I don't want you to feel … lonely.”

 

Starscream scoffed lightly. “I'll be fine. TC won't shut me out forever,” he said, even though that was his fear, deep down. “And even if I have nothing officially scheduled, I still have things I plan to do and mechs I plan to see. So get going.” Giving Skywarp a little push to get him moving, Starscream started to head to the hab door.

 

“If you say so, Star,” Skywarp said with a frown, but he followed Starscream out of their quarters and parted ways in the corridor as he walked back to the security room.

 

Starscream watched him go and sighed. Brushing the wall in his spark made his wings droop again, but he steeled himself and lifted them back up deliberately. The SIC of the Decepticons couldn't afford to be seen as weak or weary, and he had dangerous people to deal with this solar cycle. There was Onslaught and Megatron to navigate, and a clandestine meeting later with the Coneheads. No time to waste on being emotional and weak. Flaring his wings and fixing a superior expression on his face, Starscream strode off to deal with his first problem of the day- the Combaticons.

 

-=-=-=-


	38. Collecting More Firewood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long with this one. The holidays and extended break from writing created a block that I had to battle through. Hopefully now we can get back on schedule ^_^  
> 1/24/2017

-=-=-=-

 

The Combaticons managed to avoid Starscream. Or rather, they were out of the base doing something for Megatron that the blasted Warlord had neglected to mention. He'd spent the better part of a groon searching the entirety of the Nemesis for them and was more than a little irritated that it was all for nothing. So no negotiations with Onslaught this morning.

Perhaps it was for the best. After all, Starscream was still feeling a little unsettled- the smooth impenetrable wall in his spark left him feeling unbalanced, like he was missing a support he hadn't realized he'd come rely on and to factor into his stabilizer equations.

But he was steady enough, emotionally and physically, to visit the other trine living on the Nemesis. He walked down the corridors confidently. A couple of mechs stared, wondering what Starscream was doing down this particular hallway- all that was down here were the private quarters of the lower ranks. Starscream merely glared and sneered at them until they looked away, while tapping in a datapad as if he was making notations. That made some of the watchers nervous and the hallway quickly cleared out. The only one curious enough to watch what Starscream was up to was Astrotrain, the big mech slowing as he passed Starscream. The Air Commander narrowed his optics at the nosy triple-changer and looked him up and down like it was inspection day, and flicking a finger over his datapad. Dismissive flicks of his wings and a contemptuous expression finally irritated Astrotrain enough to make him snort and go away.

Hallway finally cleared of mechs, Starscream put the datapad in subspace and marched down the corridor, looking at door numbers. Stopping in front of the door he wanted, Starscream looked contemplatively back the way Astrotrain had gone. Hm, perhaps it'd be better to court the triplechangers to his side. He knew that Astrotrain in particular was suffering from the lack of steady energon. Astrotrain subspaced and mass-shifted so much when in mech form, it required more energy simply to walk around. Blitzwing likely was suffering as well, since having an extra alt-mode burned more fuel. The extra components used more energon, and the extra steps in a transformation meant more fuel used each time they transformed. That and their larger size meant that they simply required more energon. Which they weren't getting at the moment, since Megatron had everyone on the same rations, regardless of energy requirements. The converter at the island produced enough that even with the addition of the Combaticons, it could feed all the Seekers, the triplechangers, Prowl, and even Soundwave with no difficulties. Well, no difficulties except for the job of ferrying it to everyone, and making sure no one blabbed about it.

If he did that, if he got the triplechangers on his side, Starscream would essentially have _all_ the fliers here on Earth reliant on him. Sure, they might think that they had blackmail material on him, like Onslaught, but would they _really_ risk their energon source by tattling on him? And if he asked them for help somewhere down the road, well, they would be reluctant to say no to the one who brings them their fuel, now wouldn't they? Smirking a little at the thought, Starscream used an override code to open the door and enter the quarters.

Starscream stepped into the hab suite and locked the door behind him. Dirge looked up, startled, from where he was sat reading a datapad. Standing quickly, the dark blue Seeker asked “Sir? What are you doing in here?”

“I came, as we agreed last time, to bring your trine a week's worth of energon, and to discuss some details,” Starscream said with a raised brow ridge. His wings swept up confidently and dominantly though his plating and field were relaxed. While his trine and this one had never got along, for the moment they were something more than allies. And while Starscream wanted to remind them that he was not just their commander but their Winglord, he also didn't want to start a fight by being too aggressive. Dominant yes, in command yes, confident yes. Aggressive enough to agitate the other trine into a fight? no. Still, not one to be taken unaware, Starscream's optics roamed over every inch of the hab alertly. His gaze finally landed on the berthroom door, from which some rather telltale sounds were coming. “I take it your trinemates are busy?” he asked with a smirk, and an amused gleam in his optics.

“Er, yes,” Dirge said with a hint of embarrassment in his field. “We did not know when you would be coming, Starscream.”

“Hm, yes, perhaps I should have commed ahead,” Starscream said, other brow raising as the sounds behind the door got louder. “As they appear to be, hm, close to done, I'll just unload the energon I brought, shall I? Where do you wish to put it?”

That comment finally jolted Dirge out of his embarrassed state, and the dark blue Seeker subspaced his datapad and stood. He waved Starscream over to a deep metal chest on the floor with a lock panel on the top. Kneeling and tapping in a combination on the lock pad, he then lifted the lid. Inside were a few mementos and a small stash of energon. “If you hand them to me, I will put them in here,” Dirge said, holding out a hand.

“Alright”, Starscream agreed, reaching into his subspace. He began pulling out cubes of the rich solar energon and handing them to Dirge while the other Seeker stacked them neatly inside, sorted into three even piles. There was just barely enough room to fit them all, minus the three that the trine would be drinking that solar cycle.

“If you'll just set the last three on the desk there, that would be good,” Dirge said, with a wave towards the desk, while he rearranged the last few cubes so that he could close the chest's lid.

Starscream nodded, and walked over to the desk to put the energon down. As he moved that way, the berthroom door opened and Thrust and Ramjet emerged. The maroon and black trineleader stopped short at seeing the Air Commander in his hab suite unexpectedly, and Thrust ended up going down with a squawk under his white trinemate when Ramjet walked into his back and tripped. They spent a few moments growling and hissing at each other before they could disentangle and stand up. Starscream and Dirge looked on with amusement.

“Uh, hi Starscream,” Thrust finally said, after a few awkward moments of just standing there, embarrassment rich in his field. “I wasn't expecting you this early.” He surreptitiously rubbed at a scuff on his upper thigh. At least he and Ramjet had wiped themselves down thoroughly! It would have been mortifying to walk out in front of the Air Commander with transfluid and lubricant everywhere. Knowing Starscream had heard them and could see the scuffs and paint transfers was bad enough- mostly because the Starscream from before their little alliance would have used it as a way to humiliate them in public later. But Thrust reminded himself that with their new truce, that wouldn't happen (at least he hoped not), and deliberately relaxed.

“Indeed, I realized I should have commed ahead,” Starscream said with, for him, a mild and friendly smirk. He gestured with one of the cubes that he had yet to set down. “I bring energon, which I am sure you could use, now.”

Thrust gave him a small glare for that little jibe, but it _was_ mild for Starscream and he let it slide. He and Ramjet stepped forward to take their cubes, while Dirge stood up from the now closed and locked chest and retrieved his cube from Starscream as well.

Ramjet was the first to start on his energon as usual, and his optics brightened in surprise at the first sip. “Whoa! This stuff is a lot stronger than the last batch you brought us!” he exclaimed, before taking another larger gulp. “Oh slag, that's good! We definitely won't be underpowered with this stuff!” he remarked before greedily drinking the rest.

Thrust and Dirge looked down at their cubes and then each other, then eagerly lifted them to their mouths. Surprise and pleasure swept through their fields at the first taste, and they wasted no time in finishing off their cubes as well.

Staring down at his now empty cube, Thrust licked his lips. “That had a kick,” he said, then looked up at Starscream. “Why was this so much stronger than the last batch you brought us?”

“It's from the same source as before,” Starscream assured them. “I just finally had time to improve and replace a worn out part on the converter.” Not a lie- the piece had been worn out, but he left out the bit about improving the piece with a bit of experimental tech. Some bots got so jumpy about the idea of drinking altered fuel, even if the change was minor and harmless- go figure. “It's the same energon Skywarp is drinking too, if that eases your mind.”

Thrust gave Starscream a brief squinty-opticked look, but nodded. Knowing Starscream's own trinemate was drinking it really was a reassurance- Starscream might be a glitch, but he wouldn't let anything happen to his trinemates. “Well, now that we've had our energon for the day...,” Thrust said as he and his trine went over to sit on the couch- with a pause while he doubled back and herded a pouting Ramjet, who had been inching towards the storage chest for another cube. He gestured for Starscream to take the chair. “So what is it you were wanting to meet to talk about?” he asked, once Starscream was settled.

“First a few questions,” Starscream said, as he sat forward, optics and field focused on the trine. “Are you happy?”

All three Seekers startled slightly, not expecting that to be the first question asked, and having braced for something much different. A question about their loyalty or trustworthiness, or a barbed threat/bribe maybe, but not an honest question about their contentment. They looked at each other, talking over the bond and wondering what to say. “I guess so?” Thrust finally answered for them, while Dirge and Ramjet shrugged, confusion on their faces.

“You were trined before the war started, yes?” Starscream asked. They nodded, still confused. “Did you join the Cause before or after Vos?”

“After,” Thrust said slowly.

“Where were you when Praxus fell?” Starscream asked next.

“Uh, we were part of the bombing runs,” Thrust said, discomfort coming off of the trine as they shifted in their seats.

“Our bomb holds are larger than most Seekers' so we were slated to defense when you went off to trine,” Dirge said, and then hesitated a moment before adding somewhat defensively, “And when the trine standing next to us got obliterated by Megatron's canon for saying 'no', we decided that surviving was better than protesting even if we didn't like our orders.” His wings shifted defiantly, and Ramjet growled protectively next to him.

Starscream merely nodded, pushing _acceptance-understanding-agreement_ through his field at the agitated trine. “I know. You and many of the other trines made the same choice. Better to survive, I agree. But you remember what happened after Praxus, yes? The confrontation with Megatron?”

They nodded, still a bit baffled where this line of questioning was going, but no longer afraid it was a trap.

“I still stand by that oath. Only I, as Air Commander, can commit Seekers to battle- and have final say on how they are used. Megatron broke faith with the Winglord that orn, and if I could have safely taken all my Seekers away then, than I would have,” Starscream said seriously, field sincere. The trine nodded, familiar with this bit of shared history. “Do you remember our creed?”

“Of course,” Thrust scoffed.

“Recite it,” Starscream insisted.

Thrust hesitated and opened his mouth to start, but it was Ramjet, oddly enough, who began to recite it, beating his trineleader to the punch. “ A Seeker forever- Loyalty to the Winglord, Seekers, and all our kin. A Trine forever- Creations and bonds before all others,” the white conehead stated, optics locked on to Starscream.

“Yes,” Starscream acknowledged with a nod towards Ramjet. “Thank you. I haven't forgot it either. As Winglord I try to keep my Seekers safe.”

“If you've been trying to keep us safe, then why are we always fighting?” Dirge cut in, with a challenging growl. “And why are you still following Megatron's orders then?”

Starscream narrowed his optics and raised his wings at the challenge. He and Thrust had often fought- rather seriously, and with more than just words-, but he chose this trine to accompany them on the Nemesis for a reason. While he and Thrust didn't always see optic- to- optic, they both tried to do what they could to help their fellow Seekers and keep Megatron happy with the fliers. Thrust just happened to believe he would make a better Air Commander because he was older than Starscream and had several hundred vorns more experience on a battlefield than Starscream. Thinking rapidly, Starscream concluded that the gamble he was about to take was worth it, and might even cement the Coneheads more firmly to his side.

So he told them the secret he had kept from everyone but his trine. “I followed Megatron in the beginning because I believed in our Cause and for revenge against the Senate. He and Shockwave convinced me that the new Prime could lure me away from our efforts and trap me with my Winglord Oath. That Vos would again be made slave to a Prime and Senate that thought Seekers dangerous and disposable, and whom had already betrayed us. So the two of them devised a way around that and in the end I gave my Oath to Megatron- with a few tweaks from Shockwave added to it. I follow Megatron _now_ because I am essentially slave coded to him,”Starscream said flatly, wings still raised.

Three Seeker engines gave sputtering revs, and three fields flared. He could feel the horror and shock rolling off the trine in front of him at that news, and grimaced. “Oh yes, our glorious leader trapped me well,” Starscream drawled. “Even if he'd been a Prime, I could have killed Megatron and taken all of us to safety by now, like I helped kill Sentinel. After all, a threat to my people and Cybertron allows the code binding the Winglord to break. There has certainly been enough threats and misuse over the vorns for it to break... But the 'precautionary additions' that Shockwave added prevent that from happening, and makes it difficult to even _fight_ against Megatron.”

At the slightly skeptical looks that Thrust, Ramjet, and Dirge all gave him, and the flick of optics towards his null rays, Starscream correctly assumed they didn't believe that part. Well, he supposed they had a right to their skepticism- after all, Starscream was well known to get into arguments and even physical fights with Megatron.

Starscream jumped to his peds and began to pace, armor slicked down from the fear about revealing all this, and wings twitching in agitation. Huffing in annoyance, he elaborated, “Look, I have been fighting that wretched code for vorns now, and can sometimes slip past it a little. But even then it curtails any truly lethal strike from me. For Primus' sake, do you really think I would take a beating from that thick-helmed, brute fragger if I could really fight _back_? I didn't get the title of Winglord because I was weak! Megatron may be strong but he's not invincible! But I'm hampered because I can't even fire at him full-power, or bring out my energon blades, or even frelling strike him with all my strength! The code is vicious and insidious and will fumble any strike I make, or pull power from my systems. Last time I fired a weapon at him it shut me down hard enough I had to let Hook replace half the relays in my entire right side.”

He scowled, optics flashing in his dark face as he remembered that particular fight. The misfiring relays and terrifying partial paralysis that resulted from that failed shot put him in the medbay for nearly two orns. Not just because of the blown relays, no, but because he couldn't defend himself when Megatron turned on him in anger and beat him into stasis. He was lucky his trine had been on the bridge that day. It was the main instance that truly convinced Starscream he couldn't fight Megatron on his own.

“And I know you and everyone else makes fun of me for it, but there is a _reason_ I shout that 'Megatron has fallen' and declare myself leader so often,” Starscream continued, with a growl, “Even when I _know_ it's ridiculous. I'm not glitching or stupid- I know he's not dead or incapacitated. It's because if he dies I can get _free_ , and every time I declare him fallen the code flickers and I get closer to finding the edges of it and breaking it!”

The three Seekers looked at each other with wide optics, then back at Starscream. “Okaaaay, say we believe you, and that's why we're still with Megatron,” Thrust said slowly, optics on Starscream as he slowly sounded out each thought, “Then why haven't we all just left? Gone our own way? Left the grounders to pound it out on their own? You know most of the Seekers would follow you still, if you declared us neutral.”

Starscream raised a brow ridge at Thrust and crossed his arms. “If I could, I would. I _can't_ leave. Again, it's the fragging messed up code. I also haven't had enough support, allies, contacts, or resources until now to risk it. You don't really think that I would let my Seekers fend for themselves, do you? They would never really be safe from either side without some kind of guarantee- what with Decepticons looking for revenge because of our 'betrayal' and vengeful Autobots wanting 'justice',” Starscream stated, putting a sarcastic emphasis on 'justice' and even making the air quotes to go with it. He sighed loudly through his vents and slouched a little, and said in a slightly softer voice, “Besides, with most of the Seekers on Cybertron under Shockwave's watch, I fear that any move to leave will end in death _or worse_ for them, and I can't protect them from here. There's also the fact that yes, many will follow me, but there are still many who are blindly loyal to Megatron or blindly hateful of the Autobots and would not come with us- I still have a duty to them and can't just abandon them while the rest of us fly off. If I can become leader of the Decepticons, a lot of the problems become moot, or at least manageable. In the end I want all my Seekers safe and happy. I want _you_ to be happy. And I don't think that any of us ever will be, under Megatron, fighting his war, and being treated like flying cannon fodder. And you know no sparklings will ever be safe with him or Shockwave in charge.”

They all sat quietly thinking for a few minutes before Dirge asked, “Well, what do you want us to do Starscream? You must have told us that for a reason.”

“I want- I _hope_ , that you will stand with me, when I make a move,” Starscream said, cautious hope and trust in his field. “I have the support of Acid Storm and his trine- Shockwave has not earned any loyalty from the Seekers stationed on Cybertron. And I have other allies that are here, quietly helping me. Do I have your support as well?”

They looked at Starscream, then each other, and silently began to discuss it. Starscream stared at them as they talked over their trinebond, suppressing the nervous flutter in his wings and field. If they didn't agree to help him, then he was in trouble- they knew too much now to just leave if they didn't agree. But alone, underfueled, and without his own trine behind him he wasn't sure he could take out all three of them long enough to hack them and erase the memories.

Finally focusing back on Starscream, Thrust nodded. Ramjet and Dirge nodded as well. “Alright Starscream,” Thrust said, holding out his arm, “We will stand with you, our Winglord.”

Relieved his gamble paid off, Starscream took the outstretched hand in his, and gripped it, sending a small charge down his arm. Thrust did the same, and where their hands met spark-fed energy crackled over their plating. That energy, by Seeker custom, sealed the alliance. It created a brief mingling of their spark energies and carried a burst of their true feeling in it. As such it was more direct and truthful way to determine intent and sincerity than just relying on an EM field or words, yet not as deep or personal as a merge. Still, it was an intimate and serious thing, and only used in situations like this, were a more binding agreement and trust was needed.

“Thank you,” Starscream said, as he stepped back, subtly rubbing his fingers together where blue plating still tingled from the energy. “Alright then. I will, or Skywarp will, continue to bring you energon, most likely on a weekly basis. And I will call you if I need you. If you need something in return, comm me or Skywarp.” He tilted his wings in farewell, and left the hab suite, leaving a thoughtful trio of Conehead Seekers behind him.

Now he just had to see Hook for his before-shift energon levels scan, and navigate the suspicions, cruelty and whims of the leader of the Decepticons. Starscream sighed. Well, hopefully it would be a good cycle and he could avoid most of Megatron's attention. He didn't expect it, but he could hope. Then perhaps after shift he could get in some quality time with Skywarp. Thinking of his trine, he brushed the bonds in his spark, and winced when he came up against the wall still there on Thundercracker's side. Well, snuggling with the bond open was out. He sighed again, then pulled in a fortifying ventilation, flicked his wings out, and lifted his chin. Time to face his shift.

 

-=-=-=-

 


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wellp, sorry again about the lateness on getting this chapter out. *sigh* No excuse, I just procrastinated on finishing it. Hopefully it was still worth the wait.  
> 2-25-17

-=-=-=-

Bluestreak's shift schedule had changed and he was on the split shift now, which put him on the twins' shift, and gave him some much needed free time that morning to work on bond-hiding-things with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe again before seeing Thundercracker in the late afternoon. Blue was actually a little apprehensive about seeing Thundercracker, and not only because of the stupid bond. The twins had helped him to get enough control over it in their little practice session the night before, and adding in this morning's practice he was pretty sure he could close it if he needed and wouldn't leak any secrets or anything... but he was feeling all sorts of things from Thundercracker's side of it. None of it was happy. Little bits of anger, hurt, weariness, and fear were leaking through despite Bluestreak's best efforts to shut them out.

So it was a twitchy and uncertain Bluestreak that slipped into the visit room to wait for the blue Seeker. He was shuffling from ped to ped with anxiety near the end of the couch farthest from the door when it finally opened. Thundercracker strode in briskly, with Jazz and Ratchet on his heels, and flopped into his usual chair, field closed off, arms crossed and scowling at the floor. Ratchet took one end of the couch and Jazz the other, and sat without saying anything, though Ratchet raised a brow ridge at Thundercracker's actions.

A few minutes passed in tense silence, with no greeting or change in mood. Bluestreak looked at Jazz for help, but only received a shrug in reply. Ratchet merely frowned and shook his head, when Bluestreak looked to him. Deciding he didn't want to spend the whole time in awkward silence, Bluestreak started talking.

“Hi, Thundercracker. I would ask you how you're doing but even without teeking I can tell you aren't in a good mood... so, uh, I guess I'll just sit next to you and tell you about what I plan to do this week?” Bluestreak started in, and continued rambling about that evening's anticipated game night and his planned trip to a national park with Hound on his next day off. He felt awkward just standing there as he talked though. So a few sentences into his one-sided conversation he dragged the bench over next to Thundercracker's chair until they were close enough together that their knees nearly touched and sat. He didn't really want to be that close, but Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had said that proximity would lessen the amount of straining his spark would do, and make it a little bit easier to concentrate on keeping the bond closed off.

But as he sat, his knee brushed Thundercracker's and his spark gave a funny pulse, which made his vents hitch and he stuttered his words for a moment. That got everyone's attention. He looked up as innocently as he could, rubbed at his leg and said, “What? A wire in my knee pinched. Anyway as I was saying, Hound wants to see these really big trees...”

Despite his nonchalant act, his spark was still pounding, and he could feel it reaching even harder than before. Okaaaaay, proximity was _definitely not_ helping. Maybe that was only helpful for twin bonds or something? But he couldn't move his chair back now, that would look weird. It took more of his concentration than he wanted to keep the creation-bond clamped down now, and his conversation began to become even more rambling and disjointed. The more he concentrated, the more his control over not showing his agitation failed. His arms flailed about wilder than usual as he talked, gesticulations becoming jerky, and his doorwings hung low and quivering as his hidden anxiety ramped up.

Jazz and Ratchet noticed for sure- he saw them giving each other concerned looks. Pings came from them both, but Blue ignored them. Even Thundercracker began to catch on that something definitely wasn't quite right with Bluestreak and began looking at him with a frown. That extra observation, especially when it came from the mech he wanted to _avoid_ attracting notice, made Bluestreak panic a little worse. His field started to slip from the _cheerful-excited-friendly_ teek he'd been projecting to go along with his story, and threads of his worry began to seep in. Unfortunately that made Thundercracker press his field against Blue's in an attempt to comfort and figure out what was wrong. Bluestreak tried to pull his EM field in, but TC followed it with his own, which caused more worry and panic to slip in, which made Thundercracker press harder with his field, which caused more panic-

Thundercracker leaned forward, frowning with concern at what he was detecting. He reached out with hand and field, trying to better teek what was disturbing the young mech, and to comfort him. He crooned a comforting sound and caught Bluestreak's arm- just as Blue lost control of the blocks in his spark and it leapt at the now-open connection.

Scrambling away, falling off the bench in his haste, Bluestreak bolted to the door gasping and trembling. It was locked however- an extra precaution to keep Thundercracker in, since they had stopped using the stasis cuffs in here during visits- and only an officer had the code. He couldn't get out. Putting his back to it, Bluestreak watched the other mechs move about, all of them looking at him with surprise. He stared back with overly bright optics, respiration cycling too fast and leaving him feeling suddenly chilled. His armor chimed as he shivered, mind racing as fast as his vents, too panicked to try and restore the blocks.

…...

 

Jazz and Ratchet had stood up the moment he fell off the bench, blocking Thundercracker from Bluestreak, protecting their younger teammate. Ratchet was turned to the side so that he could see Bluestreak and Thundercracker both, but his main focus was on Blue and scanning him. Jazz was facing the Seeker full on, limbs deceptively loose, ready to launch into a fight if the mech so much as twitched wrong. They didn't know why Blue had bolted, had seen no threatening move from TC, but they were ready to protect him if needed. Though Ratchet had an inkling of what it might be and his scans were looking to confirm it.

However, Thundercracker didn't even move, still sitting there with arm outstretched. Confusion was written on his face and in his teek. He had no idea why Bluestreak had become so agitated, and his optics flickered as he tried to process what had happened. Then he frowned, as he felt a rising sense of panic. That was not his panic, and his focus turned inward, to the sudden foreign pulses of emotion in his spark.

Could something be wrong with his trinemates? But he was blocking them. No, it wasn't his bondmates, he checked and the blocks were still there and solid. No, there was another connection. One he might not have noticed without the blocks there to create a silence in which the new connection echoed. What in Primus' name?... He followed the thread, and his optics widened. That was where a creation-bond would be placed! But it couldn't be, none of his creations had survived! Sudden realization flooded him. His optics snapped up to Bluestreak and Thundercracker really _looked_ at him as he stood trembling by the door. The little Praxian's chevron, face and optic shape- now that he was looking, he could see that those were identical to his lost carrier-mate's, SwiftTurn, and the sparkling who had inherited them- whose sparkling name was Flit because of how he gamboled about and fluttered his little doorwings. The colors were wrong- aside from the red-, but colors could be changed. And the rest of the differences could be because of the alien designed alt-mode.

His spark flared in painful hope. A little pulse answered- involuntary and still panicked, but an answering pulse! He couldn't help the elation and joy he sent back, even though Bluestreak flinched at the burst of emotion- which only confirmed again who was on the other end of the creation-bond. A keen rose in the room, and Thundercracker realized it was coming from himself. Shaking hands rose to cover his mouth and mute the sound, even as his optics never left Bluestreak. He couldn't stop himself from sending another desperate hopeful spark pulse, and keened again as it was answered.

Suddenly his view of Bluestreak was blocked by solid red, and he took a startled step back. Ratchet was planted right in front of him, hand up to break his line of sight. He was standing, several steps away from his chair, Ratchet now right in front of him and Jazz was revving his engine in warning. Thundercracker didn't know when he had stood, all he knew was that he yearned to get closer to Bluestreak, to his creation. His creation! One of his bitlets still lived! He took another half step forward, hands reaching, vocalizer clicking as he tried to find something to say even as he sent joyful pulses over the renewed and rediscovered bond.

Jazz growled menacingly louder from behind the medic when he moved, and Bluestreak whimpered by the door. Ratchet's optics flicked towards Jazz, a quick comm sent, and before Thundercracker could move, the medic clamped his hands on both his arms. Jazz spun, leapt, and was at Bluestreak's side in an instant. He had the door opened and ushered Bluestreak out in under a klik.

Thundercracker cried out, and struggled against Ratchet's hold to follow them. But the medic was stronger, sturdy and built for holding and hauling patients, and a lifetime's experience of grappling with injured mecha meant there was no way Thundercracker was breaking Ratchet's grip. He cried out again in distress as the door slid shut and audibly locked. Spark whirling frantically in his chest, something in him broke as he was cut off from following Bluestreak. _No_ , he shrieked in his head, He couldn't lose Bluestreak! _He couldn't lose him again_! Not another sparkling _gone_!

His struggles resumed, and he threw himself about wildly. He fought hard enough that he and Ratchet stumbled and clashed together more than once, and only the medic's experience kept them upright, and avoiding the worst of the blows. If his thrusters hadn't been inhibited by the clamps, he would have used them to break free. As it was he thrashed and kicked and wailed, but Ratchet's grip never failed. Thundercracker screamed in frustration. The scream trailed down into soft keens, and Thundercracker slumped, defeated. His frame stilled, no longer fighting as he instead focused inward on the bond, latching onto the feeling with all his spark. If he couldn't _see_ his sparkling, then he would _feel_ him. Over and over he poked at the creation-bond and pulsed, just to get that flare in return. He _needed_ that confirmation, that little flare, the emotions coming from another spark, that feeling of _Bluestreak_. He'd lost him before when they were separated, and he wouldn't lose his precious sparkling again. With all his concentration on sending _joy-discovery-hope-love_ down the renewed bond, the blocks on his trine-bonds broke. He felt the curious prods from his trinemates turn startled at what they sensed from him, but Thundercracker ignored them, all of his focus, mind and spark, on the creation-bond.

…...

 

“Thundercracker!” Ratchet yelled. And not for the first time. Ratchet had spent half a breem trying to get an answer from the mech. The Seeker stood, optics vacant and still turned to the door. A low keen came continuously from the unresponsive mech, and Ratchet wasn't sure what to do. He was pretty sure, from Bluestreak's reaction and now this, that Thundercracker had discovered that Blue was his sparkling. He could guess why Blue reacted the way he did- poor mech hadn't wanted it known yet, if ever, and Blue was prone to panic when he felt trapped in any way. It was a legacy of his experiences in the fall of Praxus that was compounded by his Seeker-kin coding and their predilection for claustrophobic panic. But why Thundercracker was now practically catatonic, Ratchet had no clue.

He gave Thundercracker a shake and yelled his name one more time, but again, no response. A scan showed that the Seeker's systems were still keyed up from their short-lived fight, but he wasn't cycling vents properly and was starting to overheat. Sighing roughly, he pulled a mild sedative from subspace. Injecting it into Thundercracker's main energon line, the medic caught the Seeker a moment later as he collapsed forward. The frantic whirl of systems slowed down as the sedative hit, and immediately the heat from the Seeker began to taper off as his ventilations caught up. Ratchet thought about putting stasis-cuffs on the sedated mech, but decided that it was safe enough to transport him without them.

::Jazz, where are you and Blue?:: he commed, as he shifted Thundercracker into a better position to carry. The limp blue mech groaned as Ratchet hoisted him up against his chest, with one hand between drooping wings and other arm under his knees. Making sure his head was comfortable on his shoulder, Ratchet turned to the door.

::We're restin' in m' office,:: Jazz replied. ::Why? What'sup?::

::Thundercracker freaked out when you and Blue left, and now he's non-responsive,:: Ratchet commed grimly, as he pinged the door the medical-override unlock code, so he could go through without having to move his hands and punch in the code manually. It opened and he carefully maneuvered Thundercracker and his wings through the doorway. Striding quickly, he headed towards his medbay. ::I gave him a sedative, a mild one, to keep him quiet while I take him to medbay. I know it's only been a couple breems, but if Bluestreak is calm enough, I want you to bring him too. I think I am going to need him.::

::A'right. I'll get Blue there in justa klik. He's calmed down now.:: Jazz acknowledged and cut the comm.

Ratchet made it to the medbay before they did, and without running into anybot else. He shooed Hoist out of the medbay, telling him to go do inventory, and he'd comm him when their resident Decepticon was back out of here. Hoist nodded and left, though he glanced curiously over his shoulder as he headed out.

Laying Thundercracker out on a berth, Ratchet started in on a thorough scan using the large berth-side scanner. He gave Optimus a quick update about this latest situation, and then commed Skyfire to see if he had any idea why this was happening. Unfortunately the shuttle was just as puzzled as Ratchet. There was nothing in Seeker coding that would cause this kind of reaction, which meant it was either a glitch or an emotional reaction. None of the scans could find anything, though, so it probably wasn't a glitch. Huffing through his vents, Ratchet fluffed and resettled his armor, and scrubbed a hand over his face. Emotional then. He plugged a monitor into the unresponsive Seeker, tugged a chair closer to the berth, and sat back to wait for Jazz and Bluestreak.

As he sat, he pulled in a deep, tired ventilation, and pinched the bridge of his nasal vent. It was then Ratchet registered a faint scent in the air and on his hands. His optics snapped open wide, and he looked at Thundercracker, while pulling in more air for his chemo-receptors to analyze.

“Frag,” he whispered a moment later.

Thundercracker had just officially gone into heat.

…...

 

Bluestreak knew he'd overreacted, but he couldn't calm down at the thought of Thundercracker knowing, and panicked. If he'd just thought, and played it off, cut off the bond again, he might have been able to explain it away or hide it longer. Now away from the Seeker he could think clearer, despite the constant pulses coming from the creation-bond. When they got to Jazz's office, Blue stomped over to the guest chair and slumped into it, doorwings low and twitching angrily.

Why oh why didn't he beg off today's visit? It would have been the first time, and Jazz surely would have let him. Well, maybe. Jazz was pretty set on getting info out of Thundercracker. Also, Blue would have had to come up with a reason to skip without telling the Spec Ops commander the truth. He _really_ didn't want Jazz to know about him being Thundercracker's creation. Bluestreak laughed a bit bitterly, and put his head in his hands. Well, that cassette was out of the dock, now wasn't it? If Jazz didn't put it all together within a few breems he'd chew on his favorite rifle.

Jazz perched on the corner of his desk, and watched Bluestreak. What had happened today? Thundercracker was usually so well behaved, but he'd been out of sorts all morning, according to the brig guards. He'd certainly been surly when Jazz picked him up to escort him. Then there was Bluestreak, who was unsettled and jumpy from the moment they walked into the room. Ratchet had looked surprised too, but only at first. By the time Bluestreak and Thundercracker were having their respective breakdowns, Ratchet had looked... resigned, but not overly worried. That blasted medic knew what was going on and was keeping secrets!

“So,” Jazz drawled, “ Care ta tell me wha' that was about?”

Bluestreak curled forward a tiny bit more for a moment, before sitting up with a sigh. “Would you let me not tell you if I said I would rather not?”

Jazz shook his head. “Not this time, Blue. I needta know why you an' Thundercracker both went heywire.”

Bluestreak shuffled in his seat, arms crossed and not looking at the TIC. He knew he had no choice now- Jazz was going to find out no matter what. There were too many clues, and Jazz never let a secret go once he found the ghost data-trail of one. Bluestreak had seen him hunting down answers before, and Jazz was relentless. Not only that, but Bluestreak was pretty sure that Thundercracker was not going to want to keep this secret to himself anyway. He sighed heavily again, pushing air out of his vents until he had no more air to push and had to cycle his ventilations. Rubbing his chevron, doorwings low, field full of _resignation-unhappy-fear_ , Bluestreak decided to just get it over with.

He'd just opened his mouth to speak when Jazz held up a finger. “Just a sec, Ratchet's commin' me,” Jazz said, before having a quick conversation over comms.

“Hold tha' thought Blue, we're headed ta medbay. Ratchet needs ya.” Jazz said and jumped off the desk. He opened the door and gestured for Bluestreak to proceed him.

Bluestreak stood and slipped past the black and white mech, grateful for the small reprieve. Jazz didn't press him any more on the walk to medbay, though Blue was sure the questions would be asked again as soon as they were in the privacy of the medic's domain.

Since Bluestreak had the vague assumption that Ratchet had escorted Thundercracker back to the brig and that they were meeting to examine Blue and discuss his reaction, he was therefore rather startled and concerned to see the Seeker with new scuffs and seemingly unconscious on a medberth when they arrived. “What happened!?” He exclaimed, doorwings going up in shock.

“Blasted Seeker had some kind of emotional meltdown,” Ratchet grumbled from the berth-side chair. “I had to wrestle with him to keep him from following you out the door. Also pumped a sedative into him to get his systems to calm down before he blew a fuel pump or melted his circuits or something. But before that he went distant and unresponsive. I couldn't get any reaction.”

“But will he be alright? He's okay, now, isn't he?” Bluestreak asked, looking between Ratchet and Thundercracker. “What do you mean 'distant and unresponsive'? I thought you said you sedated him, isn't that why he's unconscious?” Taking a step closer as he bombarded Ratchet with questions, Blue couldn't help but reach out with his field,and send a concerned pulse back along the bond to Thundercracker. He got _joy-love-reassurance_ back, and an elated stroke along his EM field from Thundercracker's.

Thundercracker, hearing Bluestreak's voice and feeling his field against his own, groaned and struggled up from the hazy cloud of sedative and intense inner focus. His hand was reaching for Bluestreak before he managed to online his optics and a soft trill called for his sparkling.

Bluestreak hesitated a moment, before taking the last few steps he needed to sit on the side of the berth, and taking Thundercracker's hand. Ratchet stood and moved to stand by Jazz, giving them a little more privacy. He barely glanced at the medic as he left, attention on Thundercracker. He gave a couple soft chirps back in response to the trill, and said “Hey, Thundercracker. I guess you had a bit of a shock, eh? It was a surprise to me, too.”

Thundercracker just pulled him in closer, other hand reaching up to gently cup Bluestreak's helm, optics locked on his face. The Seeker continued to make soft trills and clicks, vocalizer catching in little hitches like his vents as his feelings overwhelmed him, but his spark was a steady wave of _love-longing-joy_.

Bluestreak sat there, making soft chirps and churrs in reply, and sent back _affirmation-acceptance_. It certainly wasn't a match to the sheer joy Thundercracker was pulsing at him, but it seemed to be enough to content the Seeker. Bluestreak concentrated on keeping his …creator calm, trying to ignore the whispers from Ratchet and Jazz behind him, even while knowing that his secret was well and truly exposed.

Jazz meanwhile, had no trouble piecing the facts together. As soon as Bluestreak moved towards the berth and Thundercracker trilled at him and got chirps back, the answer to their puzzling reactions clicked into place. Visor brightening and frame stiffening, he turned to glare at Ratchet.

Before he could say anything Ratchet sent a comm. ::Don't you dare create a scene! I just got that Seeker calmed down, and Bluestreak doesn't need to hear you getting angry over something that isn't your business anyway.::

::Not ma business?!:: Jazz hissed back, plating flaring with anger. ::You know why we've been doin' th' whole visit thing an' ya think I didn't needta know tha' Bluestreak actually really _is_ Thundercracker's frellin' creation!::

::That has nothing to do with getting information from Thundercracker, and it's Bluestreak's _right_ to choose who knows and who doesn't,:: Ratchet shot back, his own armor flaring in challenge. ::He only found out a solar cycle ago, and then only because something came up that revealed it. Do you really think you are entitled to know his personal, private, _confidential_ information just because you think you can make use of it?::

Jazz continued to glare at Ratchet, but his plating relaxed from it's aggressive bristling. “He only found out yesterday?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes,” Ratchet answered just as quietly, and stepped closer so they could talk without disturbing the two by the berth. “The merge Bluestreak did to talk to Prowl appears to have reactivated the creation-bond. I think today's oddness had something to do with that. I think Thundercracker finally felt it.”

Jazz frowned. “That's jus'- Primus, what're th' odds, Ratch?” He murmured, disbelieving. Now that he'd stopped to think about it, the sheer amount of coincidence was staggering.

“Too high to calculate, but it's the truth,” Ratchet whispered back, mouth set in a wry grimace, teek sharing the same incredulity tempered with knowledge it was indeed the truth. He'd done the tests himself after all. “Blue wasn't too happy about it, for various reasons.”

“Yeah, I c'n see that,” Jazz muttered, crossing his arms and putting his chin in one hand, visor unfocused as he stared at he floor. He was quiet for a few minutes as he rearranged his thoughts. “Hm, I was all ready ta use this, but I guess it doesn' really change much, does it? TC still ain't gonna be able ta tell us anythin' is he?”

“No, his coding will still prevent that,” Ratchet sighed, as he rubbed his chevron. “But we have another problem, and I'm not sure if this will affect it or not.”

“What's up now?” Jazz asked with a frown, looking up at Ratchet.

“Thundercracker just went into heat.”

“Slaggit to the Pits.”

“Indeed,” Ratchet agreed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This will complicate things. And I don't know how we're going to keep him safe, especially since Seeker heats are stronger, and their peaks longer. On top of that, his heat could be the final bolt that breaks the hover-sled, and trigger a cascade amongst the crew. The only thing I can recommend is isolation at this point.”

“You could always release me.”

They both turned at Thundercracker's voice, to see him sitting up on the berth, with Bluestreak tucked against his side. Bluestreak looked resigned to the cuddling. But the Seeker's red optics were on Jazz and Ratchet, alert and steady despite a lingering lassitude from the sedative. “If you are so worried about what might happen, then let me go,” Thundercracker said. “I can't tell you what you want to know, and it'll be safer for everyone. I will not allow myself to be used, heat or no, and if you don't want your precious Autobots hurt, I need to be gone before my heat gets strong enough to make them possessive and aggressive.”

“Nuh uh, ya ain't goin' anywhere- you're our only chance to get Prowl back, an' until tha' happens you're stayin' in our custody.” Jazz growled, slicing a hand through the air as though knocking that option away.

Thundercracker just sneered and flicked a wing dismissively at him. Turning his attention back to Bluestreak, he tilted his head against the Praxian's, and started to talk softly to him, telling him little facts and memories and how happy he was to find him. Bluestreak just listened quietly.

Jazz hissed at the dismissal but didn't continue the argument. After all the Seeker was still their prisoner, and wasn't going anywhere no matter what he wanted.

They stayed in the medbay for the rest of the designated visit time, Jazz and Ratchet watching quietly from where they stood while Thundercracker talked to a quiet Blue. When the time came for Thundercracker to head back to the brig there was a moment of tension, but Bluestreak said something to Thundercracker and the Seeker nodded.

Ratchet commed Hoist to come back to medbay, and Jazz cuffed Thundercracker so they could lead him away. Thundercracker cooperated, and walked out without a fuss, though he turned his head as they left, and red optics tracked Bluestreak until he was out of sight around a corner. Giving a shuddery vent and shaking his wings, Thundercracker let the feelings Bluestreak was steadily pulsing in his spark keep his processor from looping. His creation was still there, as he'd promised. As he walked into his cell and settled on the narrow berth, he kept that in the forefront of his thoughts. Now that he was calmer, he could also turn his mind to reassuring his trinemates, who were sending waves of concern and alarm at him. He carefully muted the connection to Bluestreak so that only received Blue's pulses, but didn't send anything in return, and opened up to his trinemates. He explained, relaying his discovery and amazement to them. He felt their disbelief and curiosity, and showed them the connection in his spark as proof. They sent back astonishment and hesitant happiness for his sake.

~I've also gone into heat,~ he told them.

~Frag,~ Starscream hissed. ~Are you and Ravage ready to get you out of there?~

~Yes, as long as you and Soundwave give us warning when the raid's happening. And make sure it's big and noisy enough to get most of the Autobots out of the Ark,~ Thundercracker replied. His spark twisted with the thought of leaving Bluestreak behind, however.

~Will that become a problem?~ Starscream asked, worried, when he felt Thundercracker's pained reaction.

~Why don't we just nab the little sniper Praxian, too?~ Skywarp asked. ~I could totally grab him during the raid and vop him to the island.~

~And do what with him? It's not like we have another chain and collar, even if we take him there. He'd be able to simply walk outside the range of the jammer and call the Autobots,~ Starscream scoffed.

~We-ell, we could just disable his comms completely, frisk his subspace, and take away anything in there and in the refuge that might be used to repair them. It won't matter then if he is outside of the jammer,~ Skywarp suggested. ~And Prowl's collar is special made to only work for us, so it's not like they can take it off, get out of jamming range, and call the Autobots that way.~

They contemplated that for a few moments. ~It's ...doable,~ Starscream grudgingly said, and groaned at the elation coming from Thundercracker. ~But! We only grab him _if_ an opportunity comes up.~ Starscream sighed as both his trinemates ignored his caveat, excitement and chatter coming from both of them.

~We'll let you know when the raid is, TC,~ he said, when they finally calmed down. ~We'll see you then. And... I'm glad you found one of your creations. And I'm sorry I made you angry earlier. You're right, I should have talked with you before deciding anything that involves the trine.~

~And I should have told you no matter what Star said,~ Skywarp added.

~I'm still upset about that, but I think I will let you back in. I'm too happy to keep the block up anyway,~ Thundercracker replied, a hint of forgiveness seeping over. ~But don't think I won't be giving you an audial-full later. And we'll be discussing some new trine rules, too.~ he continued, mind-voice steely.

~Agreed,~ Starscream murmured. He and Skywarp sent waves of love and backed away from the connection to let their trinemate rest and so they could concentrate on their duties.

Thundercracker sent his own love back, then narrowed the connections with them while opening the bond with Bluestreak back up, and spent the rest of the solar cycle reveling in the constant pulses from his creation.

 

-=-=-=-=-

 

 


	40. Walking on Coals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updates. No excuse, just not been as disciplined in sitting down to write like I should be. But here it is.   
> 4/21/07

-=-=-=-

 

It was nearly evening shift change before Jazz left the medbay. He'd quizzed and questioned Bluestreak until he was fully debriefed on the situation. Jazz wasn't sure if he should be thrilled or displeased with this new development. Sure, it meant they had a real hook in Thundercracker, but as Ratchet and the Seeker both pointed out, that didn't change the fact this did nothing about the coding preventing Thundercracker from revealing Prowl's location. And now with the blue flier starting a heat cycle, he'd be extra defensive and sensitive to threats.

Bluestreak's involvement was never supposed to be this permanent either. Poor Blue was only supposed to play a role, not end up shackled with kin he didn't want. The TIC was very sure Bluestreak was not happy about that- the young Praxian still had a huge, and very justified, dislike of Seekers. The fact that the mech who enkindled him happened to be one of the flying menaces didn't really change that. In fact, Bluestreak seemed only bitter and resigned, as far as Jazz could tell. Having spent a very long war fearing, hating, and fighting Seekers, especially this trine in particular, it was no wonder Blue was less than happy. But that was beyond Jazz's control now. He'd have to watch the development carefully though, make sure his little chatterbox Praxian sub-Operative didn't get sucked in to helping the Seeker instead of helping Jazz. Kin loyalties were sneaky like that.

Speaking of kin loyalties, maybe he ought to go check on Skyfire as well, now that Thundercracker was back in the brig and Bluestreak in his quarters. Skyfire didn't know about their CNA relation, but Blue had given Jazz permission to tell the shuttle. The sniper had sighed in defeat and said that it was bound to come out in conversation during TC and Skyfire's next visit, so why hide it? The Seeker was practically giddy, so Blue was probably right- Jazz couldn't see him keeping it secret, especially while talking to a mech his coding labeled as friendly, kin-mate, and fellow flier. And Skyfire might be able to give some insight. If Jazz just happened to steal a bit of Thundercracker's proverbial thunder by telling the shuttle before he could, well, that was just a bonus.

On second thought, it was a little too late to bother the shuttle with it tonight- night shift had started and Skyfire was well into his recharge period. Skyfire and Perceptor both liked the earliest morning shift, and tended to retire early as well. (Wheeljack, on the other hand, while officially scheduled for the split shift, tended to keep mostly night hours, if he kept to a schedule at all.) Jazz wrote up a short message and sent it into Skyfire's personal message queue, with an urgent notice on it so that the scientist would open it right away. Now he just needed to finish up a few things before hitting the berth himself. First thing in the morning Jazz planned to have that talk with the big flier, after all. And he'd need to be rested and sharp.

For now, Jazz headed to his office. There was a few datapads he wanted to look at before recharge. New intel that he hoped was the last clue he needed to come up with a new plan of action for getting Prowl back. Blaster had sent him a promising set of signals to analyze, and there were new aerial surveys to look over, courtesy of Cosmos. They were getting closer to finding where the Seekers had hidden Prowl, he just knew it.

 

-=-=-=-

 

The Combaticons had come back to the base the next solar cycle in the middle of the shift, hauling in masses of stolen equipment. Megatron had actually sounded pleased with them, and gave them the rest of the day off, after they delivered the goods to the Constructicons for use in the next weapon of destruction. That meant that Starscream had half a shift to plan what he was going to say to Onslaught. It would be tricky, but the SIC was sure he could find a way to get the gestalt, if not on his side, then at least neutral.

As such, after his shift ended, the tri-colored Seeker pinged the Nemesis' internal sensors for Onslaught's location. When it showed the gestalt leader's signal in his quarters within the Combaticon's rooms, Starscream headed towards their hab suite to chat. Starscream was not looking forward to this, but he needed to get it done. The quicker it was over with, the safer he and his trine would be. There was a risk, what with their near-slave coding to Megatron and how they had to follow Megatron's orders, but Starscream knew how to work around that from long practice. Perhaps a few pointers along with the energon he was delivering would help when it came to the negotiations...

He walked through the halls quickly, but not furtively. A scowl helped to keep the lower ranks out of his way. Let them think he was busy or in a bad mood. While Starscream knew they sneered and jeered him behind his back, he hadn't made SIC by wits alone. He could be a vicious fighter, and they knew better than to mess with him to his face. Arriving at the Combaticon's hab suite, Starscream looked around just long enough to see that he was alone before hitting in the override code and stepping in the door.

Swindle and Vortex were in the common room watching a movie on their smuggled and contraband television- Megatron frowned on human devices and entertainment and had banned them, though many Decepticons owned them- when Starscream came in. Swindle was lounging on the couch and Vortex sprawled on his front on the floor, though only Swindle reacted to Starscream's entrance.

Sitting up just a little and putting on an ingratiating smile, Swindle waved a hand at the Seeker. “Starscream! What a surprise. To what do we owe such an unexpected visit?” the con-mech asked, over the sounds of gunfire and screams from the TV.

“I need to speak with Onslaught,” Starscream said, walking over until he stood behind the couch, deliberately making Swindle have to crane his helm to see him, or shift in his seat. “There is a matter we need to discuss.”

“Would that matter happen to involve the energon you and your trine are supposed to be bringing us?” Swindle asked, his sleazy smile turning into a small mean grin.

Starscream gripped the back of the couch, claws digging deep into the cushioned back, and leaned over Swindle. “Careful, Swindle, or you might end up choking on any energon I bring you,” Starscream hissed into his audial, adding a sharp stab of his field that made the yellow and purple mech flinch.

“I would advise against threatening my mechs when you are in our quarters,” Onslaught's deep voice spoke from right behind Starscream, “Especially when you need something from us.”

Straightening quickly, Starscream turned to see Onslaught standing barely a ped step away, the door behind him open and showing a berthroom. _Stupid_ , Starscream berated himself, to let his temper and pride start things out on the wrong ped, and in an antagonistic way. Doubly stupid to do so when surrounded and, essentially, in enemy territory. “Ah, Onslaught,” Starscream said, taking a few steps to the side, and closer to the berthroom door. It served to get his back to the exit, and away from being pinned near the couch, while it also looked like he was merely hinting at wanting some privacy. “Indeed, I came here hoping to have a word. There are a few details I think we need to discuss about our agreement.”

Vortex turned a glare on him from his spot on the floor. “Whatever it is, can you take this to a different room? I'm trying to watch these humans get their guts splattered, ya know? And I can't hardly hear the screams over you talking.” The copter narrowed his visor at them, then turned back to watching his gory movie.

Starscream scowled at Vortex, but said nothing. Onslaught gestured towards the berthroom and Starscream preceded him inside. Shutting the door, the gestalt leader stood in front of it, arms crossed. “Well, Starscream, what is it you think needs discussing?” Onslaught asked. “I thought it was pretty straightforward. You deliver us energon, same as you've been giving the other Seekers. Or I tell Megatron about your new generosity and mysterious supply.”

“Oh, you'll get your energon,” Starscream said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I just thought that perhaps you were not so shortsighted as to turn down an opportunity to change this arrangement into more than just a fuel drop-off.”

“What do you mean?” Onslaught asked, shifting his weight to his other ped.

“I'll get to that in a few kliks. First, I need you to tell me something.” Starscream pinned the big gray and teal mech with a narrow opticked look. “And the answers will determine what we can get out of this, so answer truthfully. First, do you have to report to Megatron about everything you do? Secondly, what are Megatron's orders to your gestalt regarding energon, and what orders has he given you regarding me?”

Onslaught raised a brow ridge, and was silent for a long klik. Then with a shrug, he relaxed and leaned back against the wall. “No, we don't have to report to him, but we do have to answer if he asks us about something. He ordered us to not drink any more of _his_ energon- that being any and all of the energon acquired for Decepticon use- than we are rationed. He specified that after a few of Swindle's unsuccessful attempts to 'borrow' some from the main holding tanks. That is the only thing he's said about energon.” Another shrug, then a penetrating stare as he turned a narrowed red visor more fully towards Starscream. “As for orders regarding you... Only one. We are not to assist you in any of your treacherous endeavors.”

Starscream chuckled at that and relaxed, wings lowering just slightly as a little bit of his tension eased. “Ah, good, good. I expected as much about possible questioning. We will just have to be discreet then. As for this energon, it comes from a _private_ source, one I built, and is therefore not allotted to Decepticon use under those orders, so you are free to use it. Do you want me to unload it all in here so you can dole it out, or is there a communal energon storage for the five of you?”

“In here is fine, I will divide it out,” Onslaught answered.

With a nod, and a flick of his wings, Starscream turned and began emptying his subspace, piling the energon cubes onto the berth. A week's worth of rations for five rather large mechs, two of them fliers made for a very large pile of brightly glowing cubes. Well, large mechs, aside from Swindle, who being a gestalt member meant he still used more energon than one would expect. By the time Starscream had finished pulling out the last one, Onslaught was standing beside him, visor bright with surprise.

“As agreed, energon for you and your gestalt, same as I have been giving the other trine,” Starscream said, with a sweeping gesture over the pile. He quirked a wry little smile, field a little smug, as he continued, “I was able to upgrade a solar energy converter. Energy conversion and finding ways to make energon is, after all, my special field of scientific study since before the war. As I have told our esteemed leader many times, we would be able to live and fight better, and send more energon to Cybertron, if he would only let me utilize even _some_ of the energon collection methods that I suggest. The suggestions that he routinely turns down, in favor of unreliable sources, and raids, which are often unsuccessful.”

Taking a few steps away from the berth, where Onslaught was still gazing at the pile of energon, Starscream paced as much as he could in the small room, as he continued talking. “Just one- one!- repaired and upgraded energy converter has been able to produce a strong, plentiful supply of energon. If Megatron would only listen to me, give me the resources and time I need, we would be swimming in energon instead of starving. But no, apparently the only energon worth having is the kind gained from pillaging!”

On his next pacing turn, Onslaught was standing right in his path, and Starscream flinched back. “How interesting,” Onslaught murmured, taking a step forward, while Starscream took a step backward, “Perhaps you should tell me where this energy converter is. Maybe such a resource shouldn't be hidden away,” he said, taking another step and crowding the Seeker up against the wall. He leaned down, looming over the other mech. “I'm sure Megatron would be _delighted_ to hear about a new source of energon.”

Onslaught jerked his head back in surprise when Starscream burst out laughing. It was not a mirthful laugh, and the bitter, harsh edge to it made the large mech uneasy. Starscream smiled at him, and suddenly Onslaught felt like he was the one being threatened.

“You think Megatron would like to know, do you?” Starscream asked. He took a step into Onslaught's space, and it was the gestalt leader who stepped back this time. “Do you know what he did to me last time I found a way to get more energon? When I provided enough energon to feed the troops, and did so in a way that didn't waste resources or endanger our mechs with reckless raids? Would you like to know?” asked Starscream with saccharine poison in his raspy voice, as he slowly stalked forward.

Onslaught backed up away from the suddenly menacing Seeker. He'd seen many moods from Starscream, but never this slightly mad and manic combination. Even more alarming was the rage, despair, frustration, and other unidentifiable things swirling through the flier's teek. “Well, do you want to know?” Starscream repeated, voice going lower. Onslaught could only shrug, not sure how to handle the shifting moods of the mech advancing on him. He hit the wall behind him and leaned away from Starscream.

_“He beat me_.” Starscream snarled the answer up into Onslaught's face. He was now the one pinning Onslaught against a wall, wings high and voice hissing as he glared up at the taller Decepticon. “Megatron beat me, for daring to collect energon in such a 'cowardly' manner. He broke my wings. Then, he made me _crawl_ to him, and threatened to kill me and _all_ of my mechs if I failed to be properly subservient. I am the _Second in Command_ of this army, and Air Commander, and 'my mechs' happen to comprise almost the entirety of our air forces. You are just a sub commander and gestalt leader of a barely controllable bunch, who has already had to be installed with slave coding just to be _useful_. What do you think he'll do to _you_?”

Onslaught said nothing, but he looked away from the burning gaze pinning him.

Starscream scoffed and crossed his arms. “That's what I thought.” He stepped back, giving Onslaught more room, though he continued to glare at him. “That was not even the first time I was beaten for being a good SIC, and worrying about our troops. If you think I have not already tried to bring this up to Megatron, then you are not as smart as I thought. The only reason I had the converter in the first place is because it was damaged and discarded. When I protested and said I could repair it, Megatron threw me to the ground, stepped on my wing, and put his cannon to my head. He told me that if he wanted it fixed he would have ordered me to do so, and that if he wanted me to waste my time on broken things he'd send me to the medbay- either to work or as one of the broken thing to be fixed. Then he threw the converter into the ship's scrap heap. It took me even longer to fix it after that, with the additional damage. Bad enough I had to scrounge for parts and work on it in secret.”

Starscream paused and looked at Onslaught, glaring at him. “I may have a reputation for treachery, and I will admit it's not all lies, but I have my reasons. And many of them do not involve grasping for power, but trying to take care of this wretched army. But anything not ordered by Megatron, or not his idea to begin with, is seen as seditious and insubordinate. Even if it will help us. As I've learned the hard way.”

Onslaught gave him a flat look, field skeptical, but there was an undercurrent to his teek that gave Starscream hope that the mech was willing to listen. So he pressed on. “If anyone is treacherous, it is Megatron himself. Why else would he need to shackle his allies and underlings with obedience code?” Starscream asked.

Jerking slightly, Onslaught's visor widened before he narrowed it and growled at Starscream. “Perhaps that is because he learned that if even his SIC could turn on him, then he couldn't rely on words of loyalty alone. And as it was _you_ \- his treacherous SIC- who happened to be the one to awaken us and control us in the beginning, perhaps he felt it necessary.” The growl got louder as Onslaught leaned over Starscream. “And maybe it's your fault- especially since he said we had you to thank for showing him the slave coding to begin with!”

“And I already explained that!” Starscream growled back. “It wasn't like I designed the coding, it was already in my programming because I was Winglord! Coding which, in case you didn't know, would bind the Winglord to the Prime and his orders. When Sentinel died, I offered my Winglord's Oath to Megatron, binding the coding to him _so_ _I couldn't be made to betray him_. I let him and Shockwave change my coding to keep the next Prime from having control of me! Tell me how that is in anyway treacherous or conniving?,” he asked bitterly. Turning away, Starscream paced a few steps then came back, blue finger jabbing in Onslaught's chestplate. “But they changed it more than I knew, chained me worse than I was before. Also, none of your reasoning explains why he and Shockwave felt the need to alter my Winglord coding _at the beginning_ of the war and our alliance, when I had yet to be anything but loyal and supportive! It was only later, after things like the fall of Praxus, that I began to question his orders and 'rebel',” he said, heavy sarcastic emphasis on the word 'rebel'. “It also doesn't explain why he ordered the Constructicon's coding altered, nor why the Stunticons, who are as loyal to him as any naïve young Vector Sigma creations would be, also have the slave-coding dormant and waiting to be activated. And who knows how many others he has had infected with dormant slave-coding. There is a lot you don't know about, and fail to recognize as different than it used to be because you weren't here to see it. You seem to forget that you spent almost the entire war in spark containment, and that you have no idea what has happened, or why. Nor do you know all my motivations. I am still firmly on the Decepticon's side, and working towards our goals- remember that.” With a sneer, Starscream turned away again and walked over to the berth. Leaning against it, he picked up an energon cube and turned it in his hands.

“I didn't come here to argue, but I _did_ wish to discuss the slave-coding,” Starscream continued in a more thoughtful tone. “I know how it affects me, but I am not sure how deeply it shackles you, and therefore I am not entirely sure how far I can trust you.”

“That mistrust is mutual, I can assure you,” said Onslaught with an annoyed rumbling rev of his engine. “And I want to know how it affects you, likewise. Information for information.”

Starscream glared, and hissed, wings jerking up and armor puffing aggressively in reaction before he kinda blinked and lowered them. Letting out a huff and resettling his armor, he curled his lip at Onslaught. “I suppose a bit of mutual information exchange is acceptable in return for the alliance I am hoping to build. And seeing as how I hold the original coding I suppose finding out what similarities and differences have been made would benefit us both and help us work around it,” he said,setting the energon cube back on the berth. Taking up pacing once again- a habit he really needed to break, but right now it helped burn off his nervous energy- he started explaining. “For me, it prevents me from making a lethal hit on Megatron and from leaving his command. I am not made to follow his orders- at least not to the letter. There is some obedience enforcement, but not much; it's less that it makes me do what he says and more that it prevents me from working against the cause or trying to abandon his rule. I am firmly under his ped, in the chain of command, and cannot challenge him for leadership-”

Onslaught made a coughing scoff sound, which made Starscream break off what he was saying. He just raised a brow at Starscream's frown and said “You say you can't challenge him, yet every time he so much as trips you try to usurp command.”

“If you'd let me finish,” growled Starscream, “I will tell you why. I was getting to that. I can't challenge him, directly, but I can try to get around that by declaring him fallen, unfit, whatever, and taking over. Before Shockwave made the changes to the Winglord Oath, I would probably have been able to challenge him or leave by now- there were exemptions in the code that allowed me to defend my people if the Prime- or in this case 'leader'- harmed my people enough to require severance of the Oath. Megatron passed that point a long time ago, but the changes made mean I can't react the way I should. However, every time I declare him fallen and proclaim myself leader, I get a better grasp of where the edges of the coding are and can better fight it.” He raised a brow ridge at Onslaught. “You can't tell me that you and your unruly pack haven't done as much to try and find a way around the coding.”

The gestalt commander flexed his plating in a shrug. “Of course we've tested it and pushed at it. Any slave is going to look for an escape.”

“Hm,” Starscream hummed in agreement. “Indeed. But perhaps it's time you told me about what you've tried and how it controls _you_ now. We are comparing notes after all.”

Leaning back against the wall with a loud huff of his vents, and a narrowed visor, Onslaught was silent for a moment. Then he nodded. “I suppose I can share our experiences now. The obedience coding is stricter for us- we have to follow his orders an obey them to the letter. Now, that does leave some loopholes and leeway, if the order is vague or something is unspecified. Yes, we have taken advantage of that when we can, and Vortex in particular has been helpful in prying up and fraying the edges of the slave-coding. IT doesn't enforce loyalty, just obedience. It will stop us, freeze our frames and punish us with pain, if we go against an order, and it will cause steadily increasing pain if we delay on fulfilling an order for too long. And any move against Megatron will result in extreme pain. But other than that, our minds are our own, as far as we can tell. It is strict, but fairly easy to work around if Megatron has not reinforced it with an order.”

“Good, we can work with that,” said Starscream, nodding. “At least for now. I can help you, if you deign to trust me, and adjust the programming later if need be, but for now we should leave it as is, so Megatron won't notice any differences.” When Onslaught's teek went sour with _unease-distrust-not likely_ and he grunted noncommittally, Starscream just shook his head. “I know how to fix programming and code, thank you very much. And if you think me untrustworthy, I'll remind you I have more reasons to want to free you than to do anything untoward to you. And if you really don't trust me even after some time working together, then I would allow one of your gestalt to monitor the connection. Or I know somemech else who can do it instead,” he offered, thinking of Soundwave.

“How generous,” Onslaught murmured sarcastically.

“In the meantime,” Starscream said, optics narrowing at the murmur, though he chose to mostly ignore it, “We should work together. Oh, and I would like to talk to Blast Off, in particular. There is some specific information I need to share with him, as well as a few questions I need to ask him.”

“Why Blast Off?” Onslaught asked, curious and a bit suspicious.

“Because he is a flier, and I have a duty of care to him,” answered Starscream. Then with a begrudging and reluctant tone, he added, “And Vortex, too, I suppose. But shuttles are a little closer to Seekers in programming, coding, and frame needs, so I want to check on him about a few concerns that have popped up that might affect him in particular.”

“That's up to him I guess. You can ask him, but I can't guarantee he will talk to you,” Onslaught said.

Starscream glared, and huffed, but moved on. “Anyway, in exchange for energon and help removing the slave-coding when the time comes, I need more than just your silence. I want you to procure some items for me. And before you ask why you should do this, it's because what I want you to get will be for your use as well.”

“And what kinds of items would those be, and why do you need us to get them?” Onslaught inquired, crossing his arms.

“Various things. And I need you, or more specifically Swindle, to get them, because he has connections with the humans, “Starscream answered. “I plan to create a safe haven for my trine, your gestalt, and our allies. If your gestalt helps to build it, I would let you will have extra say in who stays and who goes in our secret base. But if we free ourselves from Megatron we're going to need a refuge to run to.”

Onslaught's brow ridge rose in surprise, but he nodded in agreement. “What will you need Swindle to procure?”

“Land, preferably a long way away from humans but near resources,” Starscream answered immediately, then began to tick items off on his fingers. “Buildings we can convert to our use, or the materials to construct them. Water and power connections or the things to build our own systems to supply it instead. Material to construct furnishings. If needed, we can hire humans to build for us, to make it ready in time. I'm sure we can either contract them anonymously or buy their silence, and if not that then we can just kill them when they are done.”

Visor gleaming, Onslaught's teek went thoughtful. “A good idea,” he said. Then he looked at Starscream. “But what is to prevent either of us from just building a secret base and leaving the other party to take the fall?”

“Because you need me, unless you want to starve in your nice new home,” Starscream instantly replied, “And I need your connections to get it built. And we already established that we both have information the other needs, and a mutual goal. Failing that, both of us can guarantee the good behavior of the other with the threat of going to Megatron,” Starscream finished with a shrug, a wry smile on face. “So are we agreed? Energon and breaking the slave-coding on my side of the bargain, silence and beginning the construction of our secret base on your side of things?”

After considering the deal for a moment, even opening the gestalt bonds to get an opinion from the rest of the team, Onslaught nodded. “Agreed.” He held out one massive black hand, and Starscream clasped it. Starscream sent a pulse of energy down to their clasped hands. Onslaught looked confused for a moment before a ping along the gestalt bond from Blast Off that explained the Seeker custom, and he sent a return pulse of energy to mingle with Starscream's in their hands. As he tasted the spark-fed pulse, full of Starscream's sincerity, satisfaction, and determination, he acknowledged that it was a good way to get a read on a mech. Dropping Starscream's hand when the pulse faded, he gestured to the door. “If our business is done for now, Blast Off said he was willing to talk, if you still want. He's in his berthroom, next door over.”

Nodding, Starscream headed to the door. “That should be all for now. If we need to talk again we can set up a meeting over comms.” he said. Giving Onslaught a slightly deeper nod in farewell, he slipped out the door.

Starscream checked that Swindle and Vortex were still and went to the next door over, ignoring the curious looks from Swindle. It opened when he knocked, and Blast Off stepped aside so he could enter. Looking around, it was obvious that Blast Off shared this room, probably with Swindle if the luxury goods stacked neatly in one half of the room and the bits of money and accounting papers were anything to go by. Brawl and Vortex must share the other berthroom then, as Onslaught obviously hadn't shared, and this suite only had the three berthrooms, and one large shared washrack.

Blast Off moved past Starscream and sat down on his berth, lounging back against the wall. He picked up the datapad he had been reading, looking at it rather than Starscream.“What did you feel the need to tell me?” he asked uninterestedly.

“Other than to check on you, and see if I need to bring in more fuel for you as a flier,” Starscream said, voice a little tight and wings slightly raised in annoyance at Blast Off's dismissive attitude, “I wanted to warn you about a possible side effect from some of the earth-based energon. Geothermal energon- specifically geothermal energon that is produced via collecting the energy around magma and lava vents- has a chemical in it that can ignite a heat cycle.”

Blast Off's head snapped up, and he looked at Starscream with a wide visor, and horrified dismay in his EM field. “It can what?!” he exclaimed.

Face grim, Starscream nodded, and continued. “Soundwave passed along this information-” he pinged Blast Off with the relevant data-packet “-when he found it. Seems the Autobots discovered this the hard way. So far, I don't think we have to worry about it too much, but you know as well as I that our faction's energon is a blend. And I have no idea if some of the other kinds of energon, like the stuff we've derived from all the crude oil we steal, has any of the same effects.”

Sitting up straighter on his berth, the brown and purple shuttle looked worried. “And there is no way to suppress it?” Blast Off asked.

“Not yet,” Starscream answered. “I've told you, my trine, and the Coneheads. We all know what happens when a heat strikes a mech.” Both mechs shuddered and grimaced. “It's one of the reasons I've negotiated with your gestalt leader to begin construction on a secret base as soon as possible. Some of us, especially fliers like you and I, might need a safe place soon. And don't worry about the energon that I am bringing- it is safe and pure solar-derived energon. I'll be testing the other kinds of energon when I get a chance.”

“I see,” Blast Off muttered. He glanced up at Starscream. “What about rotaries? Should we be worrying about Vortex, Primus forbid?”

Primus forbid indeed, Starscream thought, though he could only grimace and shrug. “Depends on his fueling habits, when he last had a heat, if he has them at all, health, etc. I can't say for sure. Just look out for the symptoms, try to avoid geothermal energon. Hopefully switching to mostly solar energon will be enough, or I can find a way to make a workable suppressant.”

“I would be grateful if you would get on that,” grumbled Blast Off.

“Oh, believe me, I will,” Starscream said seriously. “That is all I wanted to tell you. You can tell the rest of your gestalt if you need to, but I felt as a flier you needed to know soonest. I'll leave you now, but comm me if you or the others have any questions or idea.”

The shuttle nodded and waved vaguely at Starscream, so Starscream exited the berthroom. He headed on out of the hab suite with a brief nod at Onslaught and Swindle on his way out. They were already looking curiously in Blast Off's direction, so Starscream assumed they were feeling something over their bonds. Good, then they should know, soon enough.

Starscream headed back to his own quarters. Negotiations with the Combaticons accomplished, next he had to track down the triplechangers and see if they were hungry enough to be tempted into cooperating with his plans.

 

-=-=-=-

 


	41. Sharing and Reigniting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, last update was almost a year ago. I apologize. Especially since I have been saying for almost half a year now that an update was 'soon'.
> 
> I hope, sincerely, that this year is better for updates. It is a something I have resolved to do better at, for this story and my other. Almost can't believe last update was 04-21-2017...
> 
> Anyway, here's the next chapter, and sorry I took so long to finish it.

-=-=-=-

 

Starscream headed down to towards the storage bays where the larger hab suites were situated for their larger framed brethren. Both of the triplechangers lived down here, though they were rarely in their quarters. Instead they tended to sit around in a half-empty storage bay across the hall from their rooms that they had converted into a private lounge. Each had dragged a chair and a few fluffy things in, and made a fairly comfortable little nest for themselves. Since no one else ever came down here- as the items in that particular storage bay were leftover parts from long-past projects- and both mechs were formidable and easily angered, nobot else messed with their stuff.

Starscream found them both sitting on the floor, propped up comfortably with pillows and padding, playing a card game. Swindle had made a small fortune selling Cybertronian sized human playing cards to the crew. The thrill of having new games to break up the between-raid boredom had tempted even the mechs least likely to break rules to forget Megatron's orders about not adopting or using human things. The game they were playing at the moment was a modified version of the human game 'War' that they called 'Faction War'. To play, red suits were Autobot and black suits were Decepticon, and Con cards of the same rank as a red card always trumped Bots, so a mech wanted more black cards. Some of the crew went even farther and gave each card a corresponding mech from each faction, and special abilities, with jokers as combiners and able to defeat even aces. It made for lively and complicated games.

These two, however, played the simpler version of Faction War, just sticking to the red versus black, and card ranks. The sad fact was, that neither of them had the processing power to play anything more complicated than that.

War wounds, bad maintenance, shoddy or make-shift repairs, and lack of fuel had affected all the Decepticons, but these two had it the worst. Their size and extra alt-modes drew more energy and required more energon, but they were stuck on the same size rations as everyone else. It had caused systems and processor functions to slow down so as to conserve power. Starscream figured that they were probably running off of little more than the most basic programming and had only the most essential systems running. They literally didn't have the energy for deep thinking.

Astrotrain, being larger than Blitzwing, larger than _any_ of them outside of the combined gestalts- and even then he _still_ subspaced more mass than any of the gestalt members between his two enormous alt-modes- was the most hurting. Just taking a moment to observe before he confronted them, Starscream could see the white and purple mech's dull colors and poorly healed welds from the doorway. Astrotrain hadn't been damaged in a battle in months, yet his last repair job was still not smoothed over and reabsorbing into his plating properly. In fact, it looked like it was starting to thin and separate again on the repair job on his thigh. That only happened when a mecha's frame was so starved for fuel and materials that repair nanites took the fresh welding material from non-critical patches to use elsewhere in more critical systems.

Even Blitzwing's colors were wan and there were marks of poorly healed repairs as well. This was worse than Starscream had realized. He rarely interacted with these two up close enough to have noticed the true state of their frames. Looks like his offer of energon was going to be more enticing than he thought.

He waited a few moments more until their current round of cards was over before announcing himself. Blitzwing won with a triumphant 'Hah!” and a flare of his strong tan and purple wings, then leaned forward to gather all the cards up. As he began to deal out the cards again Starscream interrupted the start of the new round, stepping closer and making a loud 'ahem' sound.

Blitzwing turned with an engine snarl and bared denta, ready to defend his claimed territory and friend. Astrotrain just startled and looked up towards the doorway. Blitzwing stopped snarling when he saw who it was, though he didn't relax his flared armor. Both of them stayed stiff and tense as Starscream sauntered in a few steps.

“Nice little room you have here,” Starscream said, as he looked around. The amount of soft things and padding piled around was astonishing. One or both of them must be trading something for it. Or stealing more than energon during raids. “It looks like quite a comfortable, private nest you've built.” He poked at a huge tarp-covered pile of something soft that looked like it was often used as a chair. “How _did_ you manage to acquire so much stuff?” Starscream murmured to himself, still poking at fluff absently as he gazed around.

Starscream wasn't meaning to be intimidating per se, but his perusal and bland statements were taken more as threats than observations by the two triplechangers. They looked at each other and then Starscream. “This is _our_ stuff, right and level, Starscream,” Blitzwing growled defensively, sure that Starscream was insinuating that it wasn't theirs. “It ain't anymech else's and we didn't steal it from no-mech.”

“No one was using this room,” Astrotrain chimed in, folding his arms and hunching in on himself slightly. “And what Blitzy said- this is _our_ stuff. We won't let you take it.”

Slightly surprised by their immediate defensiveness, Starscream flared his wings. Well, he hadn't meant to imply that he was threatening their possessions, but he could fly with that notion. “Oh? Well, that is good to hear. I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding. As for this room- it really hasn't been used in a while, true. Though I am sure you remembered to get permission to use it?” Starscream asked, arching a brow at them.

“Scrapper said no one was using it,” Astrotrain muttered.

“Hm, well, I guess you do have permission then,” Starscream drawled. Turning away with a flick of his wing, he prowled around the two of them, pretending to inspect their little haven. “But that's not really why I am here. I have a proposal for you two. I want you to help me with a little project. In exchange I can give you energon and make sure that this cozy nook of yours stays _yours_.”

Facing them again, he took in their suspicious expressions. “Well?” he asked.

After a moment of shared optic contact, Blitzwing just shrugged, and Astrotrain turned to look at Starscream as he meandered through their stuff.. “What kind of project?” Astrotrain warily asked.

“Oh, nothing too strenuous,” Starscream said, as he continued to pretend to inspect their stuff, while all his attention and sensors were trained on the two big mechs. “I will just need various shipments taken from one place to another. But seeing as it's a secret project, I will need some guarantee that you will keep your vocalizers mute about this. Which is why I am going to pay you, with this.” With a flourish, he pulled two extra large prepared cubes of energon from subspace. They were the size ration these two should have been getting all this time and currently were not. The cubes were nearly quadruple the size of a regular ration.

Duller than normal red optics locked onto the glowing cubes. A subsonic rumble started, one or both of the big mechs' engine producing a low growl of want. Starscream suddenly felt like a petrorabbit facing starving mechawolves, and realized that perhaps the analogy wasn't far off. He tucked his field close so that they wouldn't teek his sudden fear at the unnerving realization. Astrotrain had a glitch and had always been unable to read fields- which had lead the shuttle to treating all mechanical things as sentient whether they were or not to be on the safe side- but Starscream didn't want Blitzwing to teek his unease and jump him. These two were a few missed rations away from being Empties, almost.

He slowly, cautiously walked closer, watching both of them intently as they looked avidly at the energon in his hands, ready to bolt if they so much as twitched wrong. Luckily, Megatron had thoroughly beaten into the crew the idea that energon was something controlled and doled out, so they didn't snatch them up until Starscream laid them on the floor next to where they sat and took a big step back. Drinking them down greedily, the two didn't even seem to taste it until the last few gulps. Blitzwing's optics brightened noticeably, and Starscream could see him slow down a bit at the end of the cube, analyzing and appreciating the flavor. Astrotrain, on the other hand, just gulped it down and looked disappointed that the cube was empty already.

“Think of that as a freebie, a preview, and incentive to help me with my project,” Starscream said when they were finished and he could safely get their attention again. “There is more of that, and proper size rations for you from now on, if you agree.”

Unfortunately the extra bit of energy woke up enough of Blitzwing's processor that he gave the air commander a squinty-opticked suspicious look, and asked “Why aren't you just ordering us to do this project for you? What's with the bribe?”

Starscream shrugged his wings non-challantly though inwardly he cursed. “Nothing, just need you to keep this on mute, like I said. No gossiping, or reports, and don't worry about it interfering with your shifts or anything because I will take care of the details. You just haul what needs hauled, and lift what needs lifted.”

Blitzwing thought about that for a moment, then grinned. It wasn't exactly a nice grin. “So, ya trying to keep this out of Megatron's audial, is what yer saying,” he said, leaning towards Starscream, trying to loom.

Scoffing, Starscream flicked a wing at him, and planted his hand on his hips. “How can I be keeping it from Megatron when Soundwave will be the one helping coordinate things?” he asked. Which would be true- as soon as he got around to Soundwave's hab later this solar cycle, for another meeting. Starscream was sure the Host would agree though. For now it was safer to keep the triple-changers thinking everything was sanctioned by their Leader.

After all, everybot knew Soundwave was loyal and would never do anything without Megatron's approval, right?

Blitzwing still looked skeptical, but Astrotrain was already nodding. “I want to, if it means I will get more of that energon. Stuff has a kick- I think my energy levels went up thirty percent just from the one cube. Promise we'll get plenty of that energon and I don't care if Megatron knows or not. He can rust, as long as we start getting fuel.”

Starscream frowned at Astrotrain's statement. Thirty percent was too large a jump from one cube, even from a cube of his high potency solar energon. A flash of concern went through the Seeker, and he raised a brow at Blitzwing, only to see the tan- and- purple mech also frowning at Astrotrain.

“Astro, my energy levels only went up fifteen percent, which is a lot, but hey that stuff was strong. And I get the same weak-aft rations as you,” Blitzwing said slowly, a hint of concern actually showing through in his voice. “I mean, it certainly helped with my fuel gauge, brought _that_ up a good thirty percent. For now anyway, 'least 'til some of it filters into my systems. You sure you ain't mixing up your gauges, buddy?”

Head tilted to the side, and brow furrowed, Astrotrain was quiet for a klik. Then he shook his head. “No, I looked at them right. Are you sure you looked at _yours_ right? I know my system's slaggin' inefficient, but that was really strong energon. Because my fuel gauge says fifteen percent increase and my energy thirty, like I said.”

Starscream and Blitzwing shared a surprised look. Blitzwing sidled a little closer to his friend, and leaned close. “Astro, what were your levels before?” he asked quietly.

“Pretty good, actually, compared to before the raids Starscream lead,” Astrotrain said with a heavy shrug of his wings. Then he looked down, and picked at the poorly-healed gash on his thigh. In a mumbled rumble he admitted, “At least after that, my systems had enough in them so that I wasn't a percentage or two away from stasis lock all the time.”

Both Blitzwing's and Starscream's engines revved in surprise at the admission. Starscream's field flared in surprise, but he teeked genuine extreme distress from Blitzwing. Seemed the two triplechangers were closer to each other than he'd realized, if Blitzwing was reacting that way to the news his friend had been so close to being out of commission.

Blitzwing reached up and firmly but gently grabbed Astrotrain's head and made him look him straight in the visor. “Astro, what are your fuel levels now?” he asked in a strained tone.

“Uh, well, now that some of it's filtered into my systems, and not in my tank anymore, it reads twenty percent?” Astrotrain answered, a questioning lilt in his voice.

Blitzwing groaned and leaned in until his forehelm rested against Astrotrain's. His voice wavered a little oddly when he asked “Astro, what were they before you drank the cube?”

“About fifteen percent,” Astrotrain answered, still an inflection of confusion in his voice. He'd never seen Blitzwing react quite like this before. “But it's alright, Blitzy, that's a whole seven percent more than it usually is, so I was fine.” He frowned when Blitzwing's engine stuttered and the flying tank's hands moved to his shoulders and pulled him in tighter. Optics flared wide when Blitzwing tucked his head into Astrotrain's shoulder and shuddered, a choked off almost-keen coming from his vocalizer. “Whoa, mech! Blitz? You alright?”

Standing forgotten to the side, Starscream blinked his optics in shock. Not so much at the sight of Blitzwing's actions, astonishing as they were, but at the revelation of how low Astrotrain's levels typically were that _fifteen_ percent was an improvement. That was nearly the _lowest_ Starscream had ever got, outside of a few really bad decaorns in the harshest part of the war, when they had all been running on fumes. And of course, the occasional post-battle low from energy expenditure and energon loss. Since then, however, he had rarely fallen below thirty-five percent, if he could help it, to ensure flight capability. Frowning, he wondered how Astrotrain was even able to transform, let alone fly, at those low levels. He remembered the rattling, pinched feeling of his tanks during that period, and shuddered to think of what Astrotrain was feeling. How had he not noticed one of his crew starving?

Then again, they were all starved, or nearly so, it was all a matter of degree. And Megatron tried to keep Starscream away from the bigger, stronger, less loyal mechs- always afraid the Seeker would try to recruit them in his seditious plots.

But to hear that a mech had been living on less than ten percent! Mecha went into stasis lock at five percent. Their pump rerouted all energon to spark systems, and all other systems powered off, frame ceasing all functions except to literally _just_ keeping the spark going. It was a failsafe to prevent deactivation, and give a medic time to find and fill them up. Mecha could stay in that condition for several vorns before their spark finally extinguished.

If fully fueled up and safely put into proper stasis by a medic, a mecha could survive millenia of vorns, rather than just a handful. However, a forced stasis drop was a dangerous state to enter. That kind of shut down could damage systems as they suddenly ground to a halt, especially in the processor and engine. The lack of energon in the rest of the frame lead to corrosion and degradation of joints and lines and fuel pump if left empty longer than a few dozen orns. That lead to problems when it came time to wake them up, if systems and frame had degraded too much.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Starscream stepped closer. “Astrotrain, I am going to plug in and see why your energy jumped so drastically. We need to see if something is wrong with your power conversion,” he ordered, field determined, as he held a hand out imperiously.

Pulling away from Blitzwing, the big mech frowned at Starscream. “I don't want you rummaging around my systems,” Astrotrain growled.

“If you want more of my energon, then you will allow me,” Starscream countered, with a growl of his own. “I know enough to at least figure out if it is anything you need to see Hook about. Anything less serious I can fix here, now, without getting Hook involved. My specialty is energy matters, after all. Besides, I know how a flier's systems should look better than Hook- damned _surgeon_ is always screwing up my flight sensors,” Starscream muttered.

Astrotrain hesitated for a few kliks more, but finally offered his arm to Starscream. Wrist port was all Starscream needed for this, and he plugged right in to the open dataport. Starscream quickly accessed the systems he needed and checked over the readings. One glance was enough to see a problem, and he used a minor medical override to open up a more in depth report and run a diagnostic. The results came back after a klik and the white jet cursed. Half the big lug's systems were running at bare minimum or shut off entirely, including two of his three power converters. No wonder it seemed like he'd had such a jump in energy, because suddenly the one poorly-working converter was processing decent energon, and a lot of it, for the first time in vorns and working overtime.

Swiftly, Starscream handed Astrotrain two more huge cubes and tersely ordered him to drink. Not that the large mech was going to refuse- he snatched the cubes and had them drunk almost before Starscream had finished the order. Observing Astrotrain's frame greedily accept the energon via the data-link, Starscream cautiously restarted dormant systems, watching closely for problems. A few were reluctant to restart until Starscream cleared a few minor glitches, and one power conversion cell didn't kick over until he forced a more powerful surge into it, but eventually Astrotrain was fully powered and running, if a bit roughly.

“There,” Starscream said, as he unplugged and respooled his cable. “I didn't see any major problems, though you might want Hook to check you over at your next maintenance appointment, and make sure none of your systems go dormant again or have issues appear after being off for so long.” Giving a huff, the white Seeker lowered his optics and glared at the floor. Angry at himself for not noticing as much as Megatron for causing this problem, he muttered “I can't believe you got down to this state. Is there anymech else this badly off?”

Blitzwing grunted, pulling Starscream's attention to him. “You mean other than me? No, I don't think anymech else is that low. The other fliers are hurting, but you know that. But it's nothing as bad as us.” The purple and tan mech turned to Astrotrain and shoved him in the shoulder. “And don't you _ever_ get that low again without telling me! We can always go beat up a couple of the smaller slaggers and take an extra cube or two and pay 'em back later, if we need to,” he growled.

“Hey!” Astrotrain grumbled and shoved Blitzwing back. “It's not like I _want_ to be that low. I don't like watching things tick down to those levels. I mean, that's why we're fighting, isn't it, Blitzy? So that we didn't have to live cube to cube, always wondering if the next one will come before you offline?” The white- and- purple mech looked at his friend, with a raised brow ridge. Blitzwing nodded, and the thought struck Astrotrain, as more of his processor started to online. “I liked the nightly raids, because we got enough energon. Sure we didn't get to fight Autoboltheads, but we came back with better hauls. Why don't we do that more, Starscream?” He looked at the SIC with a questioning look.

“I-” caught off guard, Starscream wasn't sure how to answer that safely. “I don't know, Astrotrain. Seeing how well it worked when I was finally able to try the idea, I really don't know. But I also we won't be doing it again.”

“Why not?” Blitzwing asked.

“Because Megatron doesn't like it, and I'm not going to get my wings broken again by suggesting it,” Starscream answered flatly.

Both triplechangers jolted a little at the answer and sat up straighter. Glancing at each other, optics catching and trading significant looks and a private comm, they nodded and looked back to Starscream. “Well, that makes your offer twice as tasty, since who knows how the raiding will go,” Blitzwing said, engine grumbling thoughtfully. “If you give us energon, we'll do your hauling and lifting. And maybe if you need us to do something else, just ask. And if we have something to tell you, we'll just come to you. No one needs to bother Megatron, know what I mean?” Both big mechs offered him a significant nod and a hand.

Starscream smiled. “Perfect.” He clasped Blitzwing's hand, sending a spark-pulse to where their plating met. Then clasped Astrotrain's hand and did the same. Deal sealed. “If you need to contact me, just comm, or if I am out of reach, contact Soundwave. Both of us will have the details of what needs done. Oh, and if I can't bring the energon to you, Skywarp will. I'll work out a delivery plan with you, and contingency for if either of us can't get it to you for some reason.”

Agreement teeked and nods exchanged, Starscream passed over a half-dozen more big cubes of energon for them, then left. Spark lightened by this successful meeting and another deal negotiated, he headed off to his lab. Sending a comm to Soundwave, he reminded the Host they needed to meet again and go over some things. Soundwave agreed, and with a time set for later that night after both their sifts were done, signed off. Satisfied for now, and processor busy planning for the upcoming raid and the meeting with Soundwave, Starscream settled into work in his lab.

-=-=-=-

 

 


End file.
